Another Life
by tolraisgrey
Summary: A baby boy is sent to live with his aunt, uncle and cousin after his parents are brutally murdered by Voldemort. Think you know this story? Think again...
1. Prologue

**A/N OK, so I probably really shouldn't be working on a new fic just before NaNoWriMo, but I mentioned this to a few people and they told me I should really write it. So...here is the prologue of Another Life. Warning, this chapter is pretty dark**

Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy were in every respect, the perfect followers of the Dark Lord. Influential enough to have power in the Ministry, and subtle enough in their fidelity to their Lord, that if the the unthinkable were to happen, and he were defeated, they would be able to claim that their loyalty to him had been forced. And so, they lived, complacent in the knowledge that whatever happened, they would come out the best in this war.

Their happiness was only increased when their son was born. A pampered child, with his father's colouring and his mother's eyes. Lucius and Narcissa doted on their first-born, even when it was more proper for purebloods to leave such early stages of childbirth to the House elf.

Which was why, when Lucius came to to tell his wife some...unsettling news, it was in the Nursery that he found, cradling their two week old child.

"Narcissa." he said, his tone grave enough to merit a worried look from her. Giving the baby to the cringing house elf the corner of the room, she crossed the room to where her husband was standing and caught his hands in hers.

"What is it, my love?" she asked tenderly. Surely they could not have been discovered?

"The Dark Lord himself wishes to visit us. He displayed interest in Draco."

Narcissa smiled quizzically.

"And why on earth does that trouble you, Lucius? If our Lord wants to honour us with his presence, I do not understand why you look as though someone had just told you Dumbledore has become Minister..."she trailed off. The grave look on her husband's face was beginning to scare her, for Merlin's sake!

"Because, some of our Lord's requests were not quite, dare I say sane?" he sighed before resting his forehead against that of his wife. "But we must show our loyalty, in any case. However, I think, just in case my fears are founded that we should put in place some precautions..."

A little while later, the tall pale figure of Lord Voldemort appeared, silently in front of the gates of Malfoy Manor. They opened instantly for him and stalked up the driveway, smiling coldly at the ostentatious display of wealth.

"White peacocks, Lucius..." he murmured. Still, he supposed he could allow his followers their quirks, as long as they stayed loyal. And it was loyalty that Voldemort wanted now, plus a little more help. He needed to experiment, to further his power. And the Malfoys had just acquired an item with which he could do just that.

So he was more than a little irritated when only Lucius was there to welcome into his home. The blond aristocrat almost cringed as he saw his master, and Voldemort allowed a hint of distaste through his usually expressionless mask. Was Malfoy _grovelling?_ How pathetic.

"My Lord, it is a honour, please come through, we have-" he was silenced as the Dark Lord held up a long white hand.

"Spare me your pleasantries, Lucius. Did you discuss my proposal with your wife?" he asked, voice curt. Malfoy started to stammer and growing weary he resorted to his more direct method of information gathering. Crimson eyes met grey, and the Dark Lord smiled once more as he -

was stopped abruptly by impenetrable mental walls.

Furious in disbelief, Voldemort glared at Malfoy.

"Is this treachery Lucius?" he demanded, stalking across the room, an aura of killing intent surrounding him.

"No my Lord. But if you truly meant what you said earlier. If you want to _take my son_ and mould him into a weapon, then I am sorry. I _am _faithful to you my Lord, never doubt that. But my loyalty to my family comes before that." Despite himself, Voldemort was impressed. Although Lucius was clearly terrified, his voice had not shook once, and he stood firm. But this would _not_ be countenanced.

"_Where are they Lucius? _You _dare_ defy me?" he hissed, outraged. And as if to stoke the flames of Voldemort's fury, Malfoy was _smiling._

"So I was right. You do wish to take Draco. To use magic so Dark even the _Blacks_ would quail at using it."

That was it. Snapping his wand at the unexpected traitor, the Dark Lord enunciated clearly as he spoke his spell.

"_Crucio."_

Up in the Nursery, a tear fell as Narcissa heard her husband's scream of pain. She cradled her new-born tightly. Hugging him as tight as she dared without hurting him, she kissed him gently on his forehead. She allowed her self this one short moment of pain, fear and desperation, before pulling a pureblood mask over her features once again. She turned once more to Dobby, their House elf, and for the first time, addressed the creature with something that was neither contempt or distaste.

"Dobby. Take Draco to my sister - Andromeda that is, _not_ Bella. He will be safe there. This letter too, make sure she gets it. I only hope she will accept my actions and not turn my son out to live in some Mudblood orphanage." she let out a shuddering sigh, trying to hold back more tears. "Oh, and Dobby? Whatever happens, I want you to protect my son." She paused, and the little elf's enormous eyes widened even futher. "Thank you Dobby, that will be all."

"Yes Mistress!" The elf squeaked, and vanished with a loud crack. Taking Draco with him.

Only then did she realise that downstairs had grown silent. And that the Dark Lord had just appeared in the doorway.

"Stand aside, you silly girl." he said, and like her husband before her, Narcissa smiled. A sad smile, that of someone who knows that there are only seconds between them and death, and there is nothing that they can do. The smile of someone who has accepted their fate.

"He is not here any longer, my Lord." she said tonelessly. "And I doubt you will find him easily. My," she faltered, on the verge of braking down again. "My husband?"

"Lucius did not stand up so well to my Cruciatus." Voldemort sneered. "He broke. A pity, I suppose, but still, what use have I for either of _you_, if you betray me so easily?" he added, voice almost thoughtful. He aimed his wand at Narcissa, all precision and no passion. "Still, I am sure I can force the answer out of somehow. " But before his spell could hit, Narcissa had already sipped the tiny bottle of poison that had been hanging from her neck, and crumpled lifelessly on the floor.

The Dark Lord shrieked in wordless rage and the mirror over the mantelpiece shattered in an indignant screech. He stalked over to the body and performed a diagnostic spell. After all, Narcissa was a Slytherin, and wouldn't it be just like a Slytherin to have faked her death. But no. Unless he was wrong, and Lord Voldemort was _never_ wrong, Narcissa Malfoy was most definitely deceased.

He grimaced irritably. Now it would take him days to fulfil his plan, when everything was prepared now. But just then, a voice came from a pocket in his robes.

"My Lord." a fervent voiced called. Ah. Severus. Smoothing his features the best he could, he drew the mirror from his robes.

"What news, Severus?" he inquired. Dear god the man looked dreadful. But what he lacked in looks, Severus Snape made up for in skill, there was no doubt about that. Panting slightly the greasy haired man imparted his news.

"A prophecy my Lord. I overheard at the Hogs Head. According to the Seer, one with the power to vanquish you, my Lord approaches. He will be born at the end of next month, Master."

"Tell me all you know." He demanded imperiously. Someone who could defeat him? That was impossible surely, and yet prophecy never lied.

"I did not here much my lord." Snape stammered. "Dumbledore caught me before I could hear everything and-"

"Spare me your excuses. Tell. me. What. Was. _Said_."

"I believe it was; 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies..' That is what I heard my Lord."

Voldemort cocked his head as he thought, before apparating to Snape's location. Once there, the dark haired man flinched in fear as the Dark Lord forced himself into the memory.

_Those who have thrice defied me...either the Potters the Longbottoms then. And would it not be _so_ more satisfying to use my own enemies as a weapon rather than those who follow me? It would be a blow to that fool Dumbledore, if his precious light magic were defeated in such a way. The Malfoy whelp can live. It is beneath me to go traipsing across the country just to use a child. No, using either a Potter or Longbottom brat has infinitely more poetry to it. _He grinned a predator's grin, cold and vicious. _And then, I will _truly_ be unstoppable._

**A/N And there you have it. This was basically started because I was looking for a fic in which Draco was brought up to by the Tonks family, but couldn't find one. and then I started thinking about how that would come about and what changes this would cause in canon. And this plot bunny brought about Another Life! What do you think? As always, reviews are hugely appreciated :)**


	2. The Vanishing Breakfast

Nearly 11 years had passed since the Malfoys' deaths, and in a house in the country, a family slept. As the sun rose, it glinted off the pond in the garden, its rays sneaking into the house, warming the plants on the windowsills. It was a family home, and from the outside, it looked like any normal house. But inside, there were little hints that _this_ house was different. The pictures on the walls held moving, laughing images. Here a family of three – a beautiful woman with dark brown hair and smiling grey eyes, a big bellied man with sandy hair, and a little girl who's own locks seemed to be shifting through colours – pink, red, black blonde. In later pictures, the girl grew up, became more confident, and was accompanied in many of the photos by a young boy with white blonde hair and quicksilver eyes. In the largest, which hung in pride of place over the mantelpiece, upon which there was a large earthenware jar labled _Floo Powder_, the four inhabitants of the house posed happily, the older girl occasionally ruffling the hair of the younger boy much to his indignation.

As the sun rose higher, the sounds of life began to filter through the house. A wireless shattered the previously peaceful morning as strains of 'This is Night' by the Weird Sisters drifted out, accompanied by the clanking of cutlery and the sizzling of a cooked breakfast. The smell drifted up to the currently sleeping inhabitant of the attic, but it wasn't until his aunt's shout that he started into wakefulness.

"Draco Malfoy! If you don't get down here right now, there won't be any breakfast!"

He grinned as he sat up, stretching before grabbing a clean t-shirt from the pile by his bed. There was no way aunt 'Dromeda would really live up to her threat.

"Are you up yet?" his aunt demanded, sounding like she was actually below the loft door.

"Nearly!" said Draco as he attempted to find a matching pair of socks, before shrugging and going for odd ones. His aunt's smile matched his as he lifted the attic door open and slid the ladder down.

"There you are! Come on, before Ted and Dora eat all the bacon." she said, tutting as she flattened his bed head. Draco started to protest before wondering why on earth Dora was there, when she had her _own flat _now...

They entered the kitchen and his uncle and cousin abruptly stopped their conversation. Draco frowned, a look of hurt and confusion on his face. There was a place set for aunt 'Dromeda, and Dora and Ted had their own plates piled high with bacon, scrambled eggs mushrooms and toast, but there wasn't anything on his plate. They hadn't _actually_ eaten his breakfast had they? Then Dora snickered, and the plate shimmered, revealing a full untouched meal. But it wasn't the only thing that appeared, as at the end of the table, a small pile of presents was rapidly appearing. Draco groaned.

How could he have forgotten his own birthday? Well, he hadn't _really_, but he was only half awake, and _of course _that was why Dora was here...

"Happy birthday sprout." Dora was saying as he took his place at the table, heartily tucking into his birthday breakfast. "You should have seen your _face_! Still this gets you back for waking me up at 4 in the morning last Christmas." she grinned mischievously, eyes twinkling under the fringe she turned blonde in honour of the occasion.

"Yeah, thanks a lot _Nymphadora. _Because hiding someone's breakfast and presents is a totally normal response to being woken up at Christmas, when you're _supposed_ to!"

Kissing her husband as she sat down, Andromeda Tonks smiled fondly at her daughter and nephew. True, they might be bickering now, but in five minutes or so, all would be forgiven – especially once Draco saw the ridiculous amount of Honeyduke's and Zonko's merchandise Dora had got him. Her smile grew distant as she thought back to the day that Draco had appeared, quite literally in their lives and turned them upside down.

It was a Thursday, and she had finally persuaded Dora to go to sleep on pain of a week of chores, when the whip crack of Apparition had resounded though the house. She and Ted had clutched at each other, fearing that somehow the Death Eaters had broken through their wards, here to punish them for Andromeda's 'betrayal'. Instead, the creature that awaited them in their kitchen was house elf, cowering at their drawn wands.

"Please do not be hurting Dobby, Mistress!" he had begged. "Mistress Narcissa is telling Dobby to come here, telling him to bring the little master. She is saying that Master Draco is being safe here." The large green eyes filled with tears as the little elf trembled, holding up his bundle. Two large blue eyes stared solemnly up At Andromeda as she took the baby, dumbfounded.

"My sister..." she managed to ask as she rocked back and forth gently, the instints of a mother coming back to here. Dobby cringed.

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Mistress. He came for little Master Draco, but Mistress Narcissa _stood up to him_!" A detached part of Andromeda noted she hadn't actually thought it possible for House elves' eye to actually go that wide. Then realised the implications of Dobby's sentence and it was all she could do not to break down there and then. "Mistress Narcissa gave Dobby a letter for Mistress Andromeda, if Mistress is wanting to read it..."

In a daze, Andromeda handed the baby over to Ted, and took the letter that Dobby was proferring.

_My Dear sister,_

_ I know it is many years since we last spoke, other than to hurl accusations at one another, but I must put aside any animosity I harbour, any pride, and beg you for help. Very soon, the Dark Lord will be here. Lucius tells me that he wants to use Draco in some unhallowed ritual to prolong the Dark Lord's life. A ritual so dark even _our_ ancestors quailed at using it. I will _not_ see my son twisted into some weapon, some _thing_ that the dark Lord is that bit more unkillable. Yes, you may doubt me, but family _always_ comes first. That is what we were always taught, is not? Dromeda, I beg of you now, remember those words. I know you have a daughter, and I wish now that I could have seen her before. Before. I beg of you, to take my son, raise him as if he were your own – yes, your own Dromeda, let him live and love freely, and not as we were forced to. You may tell him we were monsters if you wish, or tell him nothing of us at all. But please, for _his _sake, keep him safe._

_With all my heart_

_Cissy_

Clutching the letter to her chest, Andromeda had begun to weep. For the sister she had lost, the girl she had once loved so dearly before another love had torn them apart. She showed it to Ted, unable to speak, and he had read it, sandy brows furrowing deeper with every line.

"Dromeda. She can't be serious? Surely they'll come looking, we have Dora to worry about, she can't expect us to-"

"She can't do anything Ted. She can't do anything ever again." A little voice from the doorway distracted them, and Andromeda did her best to wipe the tear tracks from her face.

"Why's there a baby mummy? He's cute... can we keep him?" The baby looked around with solemn grey eyes, and suddenly realising the comforting presence of his mother was nowhere to be found, screwed his face up and began to cry. The infant wails were replaced by coos of wonder as Dora, peering into the bundle her father held in his hands, matched her hair to his, bubblegum pink being replaced by soft falls of silver blonde hair.

After that, things had happened ridiculously fast. Andromeda had contacted her cousin Sirius, with Dobby's help, remembering a rumour she'd heard about an organisation at work, something he apparently had something to do with. And after all, as Narcissa had said, family should always come first. And so Sirius had shown up, for once not laughing and joking, if a bit taken aback to meet is second cousins. With the help of the mousy young man with an oddly scarred face, who had accompanied him, and after some intense conversation, the 'Order of the Phoenix' had agreed to help. They had set up wards and other discouragements that should, with luck, hold to protect the suddenly expanded household.

Of course, only a year or so after that, You-Know-Who had fallen, Sirius betrayed everyone he loved, and Harry Potter had become the saviour of the Wizarding World. But life had gone on in the Tonks household, arguments raised and settled, and when Draco was 7, after two summers of squabbling when Dora returned home, Draco's belongings had been transferred into to a newly created bedroom in the Attic space. This was after a fight that had almost come to hexes, over Draco 'leaving all his stuff _everywhere_ Mum, can't you _do something_?'. But the four of them had become a tightly knit family, loyal and loving to a fault.

"Mum?" Dora's voice drew Andromeda out of her reverie, and as she looked at the expectant faces of her husband, daughter and nephew, realised she been asked a question.

"Sorry, I was miles away. What was that dear?"

"'Mal' asked when Ron and the rest that lot were coming." Dora rolled her eyes. "As if you actually went and changed your name."

"If you can be 'Tonks', I can be 'Mal'" Draco responded, with surprising dignity for a newly turned 11 year old. Which was promptly ruined by him shoving an entire bacon rasher in his mouth in one go, but still.

Ignoring her daughter's disgusted scoff at 'Mal's' antics, Andromeda responded to the question.

"They'll be coming straight after school, I think, Draco. So make sure your room is tidy before you leave." seeing him open his mouth, she forestalled the question she knew was coming. "And no, you may not ask Dobby, I don't care if it's your birthday." Smiling wryly at his aggrieved expression, she glanced at the clock and gasped. "Ted, Dora, you need two get going, you're going to be late!"

Hastily downing her coffee with after a muttered 'Merlin's pants', Dora gave her cousin a clumsy hug, before heading to the fireplace in the lounge. Ted ruffled Draco's hair, finishing his mug of tea and putting it down on the side table in the hall before going out the back to Apparate to work. Following him out to retrieve it, she came back in to find Draco's nose currently buried in the latest issue of _Loony Nonby vs Cornish Pixie_. Rolling her eyes fondly, she tugged it out of his hands, knowing that if left, he would be there until the last possible second before they had to leave.

"Aunt 'Drom!" he pleaded, attempting puppy-dog eyes.

"No, Draco, I know you. Come on, you're going to be late for school, and we wouldn't wouldn't want you to miss being overdosed on contraband sweets now would we?" Andromeda said wryly. Draco grinned sheepishly, and after a thwarted attempt to sneak his comic upstairs, he set to getting ready for the day. Setting the dishes to wash themselves, Andromeda listened to the thumps of her nephew presumably prying his shoes out from wherever he thrown them the night before.

_Why did he have to follow in Ted and Dora's footsteps_, she mused, exasperated but amused. A few moments later, Draco appeared in the doorway again, flushed with exertion and fine hair, once again in disarray.

"Ready!" he announced.

"Have you got your book bag?" Andromeda inquired, and he grinned sheepishly, before haring back upstairs. Collecting her things and heading out to the hall, she waited for the herd of elephants to come back downstairs.

"_Now _I'm ready." Draco corrected, and with that they set off. It was only a short walk to Draco's school, a Muggle primary, that he attended at Ted's insistence. It was the same one Dora had gone to, Ted being of the impression that while magic was obviously a key part of their family's life, it _might_ be a good idea if Draco could at least learn to write and at least understand the basic principles of science and geography, areas in which Andromeda had to admits were rather lacking in magical education. And as she had realised when meeting Ted's parents, not even knowing what electricity was did tend to rather make you stand out in Muggle company.

She just worried sometimes, what effect it would have on Draco when he left for Hogwarts – it was always something Ted and Dora had had trouble with.

But still, for now Draco was happy, and she let his excited chatter brighten her day, silently marvelling at the funny, confident and occasionally mischievous boy her sister's son had become.

_I hope you're proud of him, Cissy, wherever you are..._

**A/N Something really weird happened to this chapter... weird. Anyway, I can't tell you how chuffed I am with the response to the first chapter! 5 reviews, 12 follows and 2 favourites in less than 24 hours...you guys are awesome! There was slight edit made to the prologues, as I realised I hadn't made it clear which sister Narcissa was talking about. Oops. As always, reviews are most welcome :)**


	3. Diagon Alley

**A/N I disclaim the paragraph of Philospher's quoted herein. All Harry Potter stuff is owned by JK and Warner Brothers**

* * *

><p>"Happy Birthday Mal!" Ron called, as he stumbled from the fireplace. Mal sprang up from the couch, where he'd been fidgeting for the last ten minutes, to catch Ron as he fell forward.<p>

"Thanks mate. Easy there!" Mal said, coughing slightly at the disturbed ash.

"Anyone else here yet?" Ron asked, looking around the room and realising it was empty.

"Nah, you're the first. Anthony and Michael should be coming. Neville too, if he actually asked his Grandmother." the two boys shared a look of sympathy, both having met Neville's fearsome grandmother before. Knowing Neville, he might have been to scared to ask.

"Ouch. Oh hey, got you something." Ron said producing a slightly battered present from his pocket. "Not much but..." he continued, the tips of his ears turning red. Ignoring his friend's self deprecation, he eagerly unwrapped the gift, and laughed. Inside was a scarf emblazoned with the double T of the Tutshill Tornadoes.

"Thanks Ron – that must have hurt your pride to buy. Where did the Cannons come this year again?" laughing, Mal dodged out of the way as Ron lunged for the birthday boy.

A flash from the doorway caught their attention, and they immediately drew their fight to a halt, panting slightly. Giggling, Tonks pulled the camera beyond their reach.

"Ah ah. This is _so_ going in the album!" she teased. "Michael and Neville are here by the way. With Neville's Grandma..."

Pausing only to shove each other as they reached the doorway, they careened into the hallway to rescue Neville from his Grandmother's clutches. Poor boy. Tonks grinned as she went to put the camera back somewhere safe, before going to be polite to Mrs Longbottom.

Mal, Neville and Ron had struck up an unusual friendship, thanks in part to Andromeda Tonks' force of will. Ron and Mal had been easy – Charlie, who'd been Tonks' partner in Herbology, had mentioned his brother was the same age as Mal, and that he didn't really have any friends his own age. They'd initially been wary of each other, but soon bonded over a love of Quidditch, Wizard Chess, comics, and exasperation with siblings (or cousins) with a fondness for practical jokes. The fact they were also, to a certain extent, outcasts for pureblood 'Society'. Tonks just hoped their friendship would survive should they be sorted into different Houses.

Neville on the other hand was a different matter. If Andromeda hadn't been so determined that Mal should have magical friends his own age, who wouldn't judge him for his heritage, Augusta Longbottom would probably have refused to let the Grandson she was convinced was a Squib even leave the House. Honestly. Luckily, Neville seemed to have a little more self confidence these days, even if Ron and Mal despaired of him ever having the guts to stand up to his Grandmother.

Safely ensconced in Mal's room, he, Ron, Neville and Michael grinned as Mal showed them the motherlode of Zonko's merchandise that Tonks had got him. The grins widened as Mal unwrapped his other presents: the impressive gift of a pocket Sneakoscope from Neville, _Curses and Counter-Curses _from Michael, (and how he'd got his hands on that, when they weren't even supposed to be buying Hogwarts stuff yet) and from the later arrival of Anthony, a ridiculous pile of sweets.

"Thanks! I have a feeling that these will combine very satisfactorily. Yes..." Mal ducked as three pillows forestalled his attempt an an evil laugh.

The rest of the birthday was a definite success. Uncle Ted and Tonks had put together a scavenger hunt in the garden, resulting in five muddy but proud owners of miniature models, after which, far too much cake and other sugar was eaten. To avoid five hyperactive eleven year olds, Tonks hastily suggested a game of pick-up Quidditch, which was only called to a halt as the other boys' respective guardians came to pick them up. A few hours later, an exhausted Mal lay happily in his bed, staring up at the slanted ceiling, practised eyes picking out the luminescent constellations on his Star Map.

The rest of June passed agonisingly slowly, Mal gradually distancing himself from his primary school class mates, knowing he'd be off to Hogwarts in the autumn. It was at breakfast a few days into the holiday, when he'd spent five minutes glancing out the window at the slightest sign of movement, that Ted felt the need to comment on his nephews behaviour.

"Your Hogwarts letter won't get here any sooner if you fidget so much you wear a hole in your chair, Draco." he said, wryly. Mal blushed, its pink stark on his skin, which was still pale despite the sun's best efforts.

"I know...but I wish it would _get here already!" _

Ted chuckled at his impatience. After all, if he'd known about Hogwarts before a robed figure had turned up on their doorstep, he imagined he would have been just as impatient as his nephew.

Fortunately for the nerves of everyone involved, Mal's acceptance letter arrived the next, a whoop of exultation filtering down from the attic. It was followed shortly by the sound of someone sliding down a ladder, before hurried footsteps heralded the arrival of an ecstatic Mal.

"It's here, It's here, It's actually here!" he chanted, dancing around the dining room table, waving the parchment in the air.

"Read it aloud then," Ted said, smiling. If only Andromeda had been able to postpone that appointment, but they hadn't known for sure when the letter was coming.

Mal cleared his throat, seeming to almost vibrate with excitement.

"'Dear Mr. Malfoy, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress.' Finally! So when can we go to Diagon – oh can we go this weekend, after the game, oh, and can I get my own broom, pleeaase!" Mal's eye's were as wide open as they could go, and he was once again bouncing on the spot.

"I think you need to remember to breathe son. And no, no brooms – first years aren't allowed, remember?" Ted reminded Mal gently. Chuckling at his disgruntled expression, Ted signed the acceptance form and gave it to the owl that had followed Mal downstairs. "And I believe you're supposed to be at the Burrow today, aren't you?"

"Oh! I forgot." Mal admitted. As he raced back upstairs to grab his things, Ted thought he could make out a muffled 'I can't wait to tell Ron! I wonder if he's got his yet?'.

As it happened, it wasn't until the 31st of July that anyone was able to take Mal to Diagon Alley. Andromeda had had a Healing emergency the weekend they were intending to go, and Ted had taken time off work already for their family holiday. In the end, Tonks managed to finagle a few hours out of training, under the firm understanding that she was to make them up, no excuses allowed. But Mal didn't care. He was going to Diagon Alley to buy his things. He was going to Hogwarts in September. And the best things _always_ happened in Diagon.

* * *

><p>Harry Potter was in a state of stunned disbelief. Only a few hours earlier, although it seemed like forever, a giant man had broken into the old shack where his uncle and aunt had had them hiding, and told him he was a wizard. Now he was in <em>Wizarding London<em>, after just having visited a bank _run by goblins_. This was definitely the best birthday Harry had ever had.

"Might as well get your uniform," said Hagrid, nodding towards _Madam Malkin's Robes for all occasions_. "Listen Harry, would you mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts Carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkins shop alone, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch, dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a faintly freckled, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hi!" said the boy, grinning. "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes, said Harry.

"My cousin's next door buying books – she's got to get back to Training soon, and then after that we're going to Ollivander's" The boy had a friendly voice, quick, with a twinge of Estuary. "'Course, if we get time, I'll drag her off to look at racing brooms – not she'll complain, I expect." A note of complaint entered his voice. "I still don't understand why first years can't have their own brooms – if Aunt Drom wouldn't kill me for it I'd try blackmailing Tonks into helping me smuggle one in." for a second, Harry was reminded of Dudley, before realising the boy was only joking. And he actually cared what his Aunt thought.

"Have you got your own broom?" The boy went on.

"No," Harry replied.

"Nor have I – well, not _really_ – I've got Dora's - Tonks' old one though – my cousin's, that is. She reckons it's still better than the school's though. He pulled a face of mock horror. "D'you play Quidditch, at all?"

"No," Harry repeated, wondering what on earth Quidditch was, and what was so terrible about school brooms.

"Shame. It's brilliant – Tornadoes fan myself. A bunch of us play sometimes too – not proper though, no one'll let us use an actual Bludger." He put on a high pitched voice. "It's far too dangerous!" He continued, reverting to his normal tone. "Still, I'd love to play for my House – Tonks thinks I could get on to a team as well, depending on what position I play. What House do you think you'll be in?" the boy asked Harry, brows raised expectantly.

"Um." Harry started, feeling stupid, and the other boy blushed.

"Oh, sorry!" he exclaimed. "Are you Muggle-born? Honestly," he groaned. "Here I am prattling on about Houses and Quidditch and you probably don't have a clue what I'm going on about, do you?" he looked at Harry sheepishly. Harry smiled, a little uncertainly. It was the first time anyone his own age had actually cared what Harry felt or thought. But then, he was the first person Harry's own age who hadn't been introduced to him by Dudley or Aunt Petunia. Then he realised the other boy was waiting for an answer.

"Um, not really. My parents were magic, but they died when I was a baby, so I was brought up by my Muggle and uncle. And they...really don't like magic."

Harry's confession was followed by an awkward silence, and while the blond haired boy's face was full of sympathy, he seemed to be a loss for what to say.

Fortunately distraction came in the very large form of Hagrid, who was standing at the window, pointing at the ice cream cone in his hand to show why he couldn't come in. He also seemed to have acquired a _pink_ haired young woman, who was in the process of earnestly explaining something to Hagrid. As they watched, she somehow manage to daub the robes of a passing wizard with her own ice cream, thanks to an over enthusiastic gesture. Next to Harry, the other boy groaned in embarrassment.

"Someone you know?" Harry asked, trying to hide his smile. The boy glanced at him from the corner of his eye, smirking at the young woman's escapades. She seemed to have got the worst of the ice cream off, at least.

"Yeah...that would be my cousin Tonks – oh, my name's Mal, by the way." He stuck out a hand, somewhat impeded by a sleeve glittering with pins.

"Harry."

Mal's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth as if to ask a question, before thinking better of it.

"Nice to meet you Harry. Is that Hagrid out there?"

"Yeah, he brought me here. And he's brilliant." Harry said faithfully.

"Stark raving mad is what I heard." Mal retorted, in wry amusement. "But then, all the best people are. Tonks has got some great stories. You should hear the one about-"

Before he could finish, Madam Malkin interrupted him to tell him she was finished, and shrugging, Mal jumped down off the stool.

"Maybe another time?" he continued as he deftly undid the newly altered robe. "Oh and Harry? Grab a copy of Quidditch through the ages if you can, well worth a look. Especially the bit on fouls!" He grinned wickedly, before becoming oddly serious, a look that seemed out of place considering that the rest of the time Mal seemed to have a permanent smirk. "Try and find a copy of Tales of the Founders, It's by Anne B Walsh, I think. It's a lot less biased than some of the other stuff out there when it comes to Houses."

Harry wondered why an unbiased view was so important, but there was _something _in Mal's manner that didn't invite questions. And then it was gone as abruptly as it came, replaced by the initial chatty, friendly Mal of before. "See you at Hogwarts, Harry!" And with that, he was out of the shop, heading for the pink haired woman, Tonks, who greeted him with a friendly thump on the shoulder. Harry smiled as he watched them bicker, Mal pulling on Tonks arm as she said goodbye to Hagrid. Harry wondered _why_ Mal was with his cousin, and why he hadn't mentioned his parents at all. Then he remembered the fact that not so long ago, there had been a war, and that the look of sympathy on Mal's face hadn't been one of pity, but of understanding. So he didn't ask Hagrid if he knew who Mal was, on coming out of Madam Malkin's. He did however, take the other boy's advice and invest in a copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_, and _Tales of the Founders. _He briefly considered buying a copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ as well, before dismissing it as being too dry. Besides, mystery was half the fun.

* * *

><p>Further down the street, as he looked wistfully at the Nimbus 2000 in the window of <em>Quality Quidditch Supplies<em>, Tonks eyed her cousin thoughtfully. Her conversation with Hagrid had been illuminating, to say the least.

"So who was that with you in Madam Malkins?" She asked casually. Too casually. Mal smirked before looking at her innocently.

"You mean Hagrid didn't tell you? He said his name was Harry. Why?"

Tonks struggled to stop her hair from turning red as she realised she'd been made.

_Damn. Moody'll never let me live it down if he realises I got made by my kid cousin._

"All right, you got me. So what did you think of the great Harry Potter then?" she asked curiously.

"So he _was_ Harry Potter then? Thanks Tonks, I wasn't actually 100 % sure. 99% maybe." His painfully straight face cracked as Tonks gave an indignant squeak.

"You mean? You _sneaky_ little-" She managed to get out.

_He is so going to Slytherin!_ She thought, grudgingly amused. Mal snickered.

"Sorry. I didn't ask his last name – you know how much I hate it if people gawp, so imagine what it must be like for the 'Boy-Who-Lived'" Tonks could hear the air quotes in her cousin's voice, as well as the bitterness no eleven year old should use. She gave him a sympathetic squeeze, and unusually, considering they were in public, he let her.

Mal was in no way a celebrity like Harry Potter, the only person to survive a Killing Curse. But being the only son of Death Eaters, one of whom was tortured into insanity, the other having killed herself, to protect their son from their own _leader_ gave Mal a certain level of notoriety. Mal and his family hated it, and Andromeda in particular was furious with how much of the story had somehow got into the _Daily Prophet._

"OK, fair enough. But what was he like, really?" Tonks persisted. Mal wriggled out of the hug, and turned to look at his cousin, frowning.

"He didn't know anything, Dora. When I asked him if he played Quidditch, he looked at me as if I had two heads. And his clothes...put it this way, it's a good thing we wear robes at Hogwarts. And he was dead skinny..."

Tonks' brow furrowed to match Mal's. Granted she hadn't seen much of Harry through the shop window, and she had been stuck on 'Oh my god Harry Potter' a little too much to notice anything specific, but still.

"And you think that's weird? You're a stick yourself, and you know you drive mum up the wall with all the clothes you wreck." said Tonks, poking Mal in the ribs. He batted her hand away, half heartedly.

"That's different. It was just little things – like, if the Potters were rich like everyone says, why's he wearing hand-me-downs four sizes too big, and broken glasses? He reminded me of Reece Baines, actually." Mal shifted uncomfortably, and Tonks could see why.

Reece Baines was a skinny little kid that had been in Mal's year 6 class. He had three elder brothers, and unemployed dad and a mum that worked two jobs, just to make ends meet. And there were rumours about the Baines family, ones that even a magical family in semi-hiding couldn't ignore. Mal was right, things didn't seem to add up.

_I'll get mum to put some Nutri-Potions in with Mal's stuff, and hopefully he'll twig who they're for. And as for me..._

"I'll see if there's anything I can dig up at work – no promises mind, our access to Muggle records is pretty limited. And you'll just have to look out for him, won't you?"

Mal finally smiled again, satisfied that for the moment, he'd done all he could. Now, if only he could persuade Tonks to go halves on that Nimbus...

* * *

><p><strong>AN And let the canon twisting commence! Ok, finally found out how to put line breaks in again, which should help.**

**As to why Mal is notices the Dursleys' abuse when not much is made of it in canon. First off, I realised that in the books, Draco is the only person who has a conversation with Harry without knowing who he is. With everyone else, they get about 5 seconds into a conversation before they find out he's Harry Potter. Then after that, their brains switch off a little - it's like if you meet a celebrity in real life - you're probably a bit too overwhelmed by them even _being there_ to notice small details. So in this AU, Mal starts to put things together, as you can see - but his first impression is still of a scrawny scared kid in too big clothes with broken glasses. And I have a feeling that caring about your appearance is a pureblood trait, something Andromeda would have encouraged Mal to do, as it's not exactly a negative thing. (Tonks too, but she's an adult, and I think she does care what she looks like, she just likes making a statement). So the state of Harry's clothes is something Mal would pick up on. After all, if canon Draco could pick up on Ron's 'hand-me-down robes', it's not too much of a stretch for Mal to pick up on Harry's muggle clothing. OK, end of explanation!**

** If you have questions about the plot or anything else, do feel free to ask, either by PM or by review (normal reviews are just as welcome!). Hope you enjoyed the latest chapter of Another Life!**


	4. The Journey from Platform 9 3 4

**A/N I do not own Harry Potter, nor will I ever, sadly. The quotes in this chapter come once again from Philospher's Stone. Actually, if you see anything you recognise, it's not mine. That goes for all future chapters too.**

* * *

><p>Journey from 9 ¾<p>

"Draco Malfoy, if you don't go to bed _right_ _now_, We are not taking to the station tomorrow, you can make your own way there." Andromeda threatened as she heard her nephew one the stairs. He froze guiltily, before popping his round his aunt and uncles' door.

"Sorry, I can't sleep, and I wanted to check that I-"

"Bed. Now." Seeing the stern look on his aunt's face he fled, skipping rungs of his ladder to escape his aunt's wrath. He lay awake in frustration for about ten minutes, before a thought popped into his head. Aunt Andromeda had said he had to go to bed, not that he had to go _sleep._ Carefully, to avoid stepping on the squeaky floorboard, he crossed over to where his trunk lay. (well, Tonks' old one. At least Aunt Drom had got rid of all the graffiti.) Popping the lid open, he snuck out his birthday present from Michael, _Curses and Counter-Curses_, and read until his eyes grew heavy. With a guilty start when he saw his alarm clock read half past 2, he hastily turned out his light, and tried to sleep.

It worked to a certain extent, but excitement combined with nervousness made for a fitful night, and when Mal woke at five in the morning, he was too excited to even try to go back to sleep. Instead he packed and repacked everything to make sure he wasn't missing anything, and then went got dressed – Muggle clothes as Uncle Ted was driving. He was downstairs and eating breakfast by half past six, causing Uncle Ted to do a double take.

"My God, you're up early. Is something important happening today?" he teased, putting the kettle on and putting bread on to toast. Mal's face fell for a moment, before scowling at his uncle.

"Not funny." Mal told him, eyes narrowing further at Ted's hearty chuckle. Luckily, before Mal's lack of sleep caused him to say something rude, Aunt Andromeda breezed into the kitchen, looking, Mal thought, far too immaculate for before seven in the morning.

"Oh good, you're up and dressed – I don't have to chivvy you out of bed for once."

"Aunt Drom! I'm not _that_ bad." Mal complained as his aunt smiled impishly. Her smile dropped however, as she sat down opposite her nephew. She tutted.

"Honestly, did you get _any_ sleep last night?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "You look like a little panda, Draco." Over by the toaster, Uncle Ted jumped to his defence.

"Do you blame him, Dromeda? I remember what I was like the night before first-year. And lets not forgot Dora waking up every half hour from three until six and groaning so loud every time it was too early she woke us all up..."

Aunt Andromeda winced a little at the reminder and conceded the point. Mal hastily turned away as his uncle and aunt shared a kiss. It was nice they loved each other, but there were some things Mal never wanted to see at the breakfast table.

After a time, which seemed to be both forever and no time at all, Mal returning to his room at least five times before Aunt Andromeda lost her patience and used magic to pack the last of his things they were off to Kings Cross. Luckily, they didn't live so far from London, so they made good time. Mal couldn't imagine what it must be like for muggle-borns who lived further away. As they got out of the car, Mal couldn't help but notice that they drew a number of looks.

_Archimedes probably doesn't help_, he reflected, eyeing the owl that had been a late birthday present. _And even in muggle clothes, Aunt Drom always looks, well like a witch._

It wasn't necessarily in a bad way, but she did tend to favour long flowing skirts and blouses with generous sleeves. Fortunately, they got to platform 9 and ¾ without any issues, and they stood for a moment, admiring the scarlet steam engine that was the Hogwarts express. Uncle Ted helped Mal get his things on the train, and then the three of them stood on the platform no one knowing what to say.

"Well, this it." Aunt Andromeda eventually said. "And you're sure you have everything?"

Mal nodded, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation.

"I saw that young man!" chided Aunt Andromeda, before drawing her nephew into a hug.

"Aunt Drom..." he groaned, before returning the embrace. Realising he wouldn't have another Aunt Andromeda hug, or an Uncle Ted hair ruffle or a Tonks play fight for another 3 and a half months, he felt his chest constrict, a sensation that had nothing to do with the arms encircling him.

"Be good." she told him, smiling despite the misty look in her eyes.

"And if you can't be good." Uncle Ted added, giving his nephew's shoulder a squeeze.

"Be Careful." He chorused, and the three of them shared a wry grin. That was it, really, and after Mal promised to write, they said goodbye and Mal got on the train.

Abruptly, the excitement was overwhelmed by lack of sleep, and so as soon as he got back to his compartment, which was still, thankfully empty, he flopped down on one of the seats, taking up most of the bench. A little while later, the compartment door slid open again. Mal cracked an eye open, and seeing it was Neville, smiled slightly before trying to go back to sleep.

"How was the rest of your summer, Mal?"

Mal grunted in response, and Neville laughed.

"Did you not sleep last night?" he asked.

"Neville..." he groaned. "What do you think?". Just then the compartment door slid open _again_ and Mal gave up on all hope of sleeping the whole way to Hogwarts. Especially when he saw the two red topped heads that had pulled the door open.

"Ah, Master Malfoy -"

"- we thought we detected your dulcet tones..."

"Sod off and torment someone else Weasleys." he muttered, and Fred, or possibly George, Mal wasn't sure gave a gasp of mock horror.

"Why, Master Malfoy, such _language!_"

"From such a fine young gentleman as yourself, as well!"

"Whatever would your aunt say?"

"Enough!" Mal growled, and the twins snickered. Usually he got on with them fairly well, but today Fred and George were giving him a headache.

"Ok, ok. You spoil all our fun you know, Mal." Fred said. Mal gave him a singularly unimpressed _look_.

"My heart bleeds."

The twins gave a high pitched 'ooh'. Before there was a small, 'um' from behind them.

"Oh right!" George said. "Mind if – what was your name again ?" he turned to the boy behind him.

"Harry."

Mal grinned. He couldn't wait to see how long it took before the twins worked out who he was.

"Right. Mind if Harry shares with you two?"

"Fine by me." Neville said quietly, giving Harry a wary smile.

"Be my guest." Mal said sitting up, and gesturing to the now free seat.

With the help of everyone in the compartment, Harry trunk was swiftly put away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks, everyone." Harry said, pushing sweaty hair out his eyes. Mal smirked as he caught the mark on the other boy's forehead.

_In three, two, one..._

"What's that?" Fred asked suddenly, pointing to Harry's scar.

"Blimey." added George. "Are you -?"

"He is. Aren't you?"

Neville looked on, completely lost.

"What are you taking about?" he asked.

"If he's Harry _Potter_." The twins chorused. Neville's eyes widened, and Harry looked discomfited at all the attention. Hardly surprising, Mal thought.

"That would be me." admitted Harry. Blushing as three of the inhabitants of the compartment gawped at him. To his relief, their mother called them away. Mal couldn't blame Harry for the sheer look of relief on his face.

"So you're really Harry Potter?" Neville asked, timidly. Harry gave him a weary grin.

"Yup. S'pose you want to see the scar?" he asked, a touch cynically in Mal's opinion, but Neville shook his head.

"Not if you don't want to."

Harry looked hugely grateful at this, and then frowned, as he realised the third occupant of the compartment had been oddly quiet.

"You didn't seem very surprised." Harry commented, and Mal snorted.

"It wasn't exactly rocket science." he said, smiling at Harry's confused look. "Wizarding Britain's not exactly huge, I knew we're the same age, so there can't be that many Harrys." he paused, noting the embarrassed look on Harry's face. "And Hagrid told Tonks, who told me." he admitted, ducking his head.

"You're cousin, right?"

"Yep. She's great – couldn't get her to help me smuggle a broom in though." Mal pulled a face, and Harry laughed at the reference to their previous conversation.

"Wait, you two know each other?" Neville interjected, and Mal glanced at his friend affectionately.

"Ah, yes, I did sort of forget to mention that didn't I? Sorry Nev." he gestured towards Neville. "Harry Potter, this is Neville Longbottom. Neville, Harry." Neville rolled his eyes.

"I got that bit, thanks."

Mal raised his eyebrows. Neville was finally growing a bit of a backbone. As Harry asked Neville a little more about himself, Mal glanced out of the window. He snickered as he overheard the twins promise to send Ginny a toilet seat, then became hugely glad of Neville as he heard the twins tell Mrs Weasley about Harry. Honestly, did they really think Harry would tell them if he could remember You-Know-Who? He didn't exactly come across as the sort of person to love fame. It was a good thing Mrs Weasley set them straight otherwise they might find themselves... inconvenienced. Mal still needed to get them back for the last prank they played on him anyway.

A whistle sounded, and a moment later, the train began to move. Mrs Weasley and Ginny were still on the platform, Ginny running to try and keep up with the train. Houses flashed past the window, and Mal felt a mix of excitement and a sorrow. He didn't know exactly what was awaiting him, but it wouldn't be the same as what he'd left behind.

The door slid open again, and this time Ron came in, with a decidedly disgruntled look on his face.

"What's up with _you_?" Mal asked amused. Ron grimaced.

"Lee Jordan's got a _tarantula. _And Fred and George were all 'come and share a compartment with us, 'Ronniekins. Blech."

Mal and Neville gave Ron a sympathetic look. They were both well aware of Ron's arachnophobia – on occasion Mal had himself used it for his own amusement.

"Come in then, don't just malinger in the doorway like a lemon." Mal said, and Harry laughed. Ron just raised his eyebrows and said:

"You've been spending too much time with Tonks. And I don't think that's what malingering means, Mal." Ron sat down opposite Harry, and gave the other boy and inquisitive stare.

"Who're you then?" he asked good-naturedly, and Mal rolled his eyes. Then smirked at what he knew was to come.

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

Ron gaped, as Mal knew he would. He asked Harry to see his scar, and Harry obliged.

"Did I look like that when you told me?" Neville wondered. Mal held his finger and thump up, close together, and Neville blushed

"Anyway...now your gawping is over Weasley, how about normal people conversation?" Mal suggested, and Ron blushed.

"Well, I'm sorry for having a _normal _reaction to somebody famous. No offence Harry."

"None taken?" Harry said uncertainly. "And I think Mal doesn't count." he added, growing in confidence. "He found out after meeting me. So he could be an idiot on his own terms, and not just because of me."

"Hey!" Mal said, his jaw dropping before he gave an grudging grin. He might actually have someone worth bantering with. Ron was fun, but he tripped himself up too much to be challenge. The twins were two on one, and being sarcastic around Neville was mean, like torturing a kitten. "Touché Potter."

"So are all your families magic then?" Harry asked, curiously. Mal became a little awkward, and he could see that Neville had closed off. For once, Ron managed to be tactful enough to step in.

"Yeah. Well, we've got a second cousin who's an accountant, but no one ever really talks about him."

"You must know loads of magic." Harry said, enviously, and Mal snorted.

"I wish – we're not supposed to do magic outside of school." He added, seeing Harry's inquisitive look. "Mind you, we'd probably blow something up, practising on our own. I heard you live with Muggles, anyway – what're they like." Mal asked. Time to see if his suspicions were right.

"Horrible. Well, not all of them. My aunt uncle and cousin, are though. Wish my cousin was as cool as yours sounds."

Mal smiled at the compliment, although it was a little forced. Sometimes, he hated being right.

"Tonk is wicked!" Ron told Harry. "Better having just a cousin, instead of _five_ brothers. I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. Plus Bill and Charlie have already left, and they were Head Boy and Quidditch captain. And I never get anything new. At least Mal's just got Tonks to live up to -"

"Which shouldn't be hard. Although imitating Professors to break curfew might have to wait a couple of years." Mal interrupted, cheerily ignoring the rude gesture Ron threw at him. Harry looked at him in amazement.

"You can do that?" he asked, impressed.

"I wouldn't recommend it. Tonks has a bit of an advantage – she's a Metamorphmagus – which means she was born with the ability to change her appearance at will."

"Cool!" Harry breathed.

"Until she uses it to trick you into thinking she's Aunt Drom, and forces you to tidy her room for stealing her chocolate." Mal said ruefully, and Ron and Nevilled chuckled.  
>"I'd forgotten that. Your aunt was furious though wasn't she?" Ron asked and Mal gave a wicked grin.<p>

"Just a bit. Uncle Ted just thought it was funny, the git." Mal scowled.

"So you live with your aunt and uncle too?" Harry asked. Mal nodded, eyes wistful.

"My parent's were attacked by You-Know-Who, when I was a baby. Neither of them lived to tell about it." he said solemnly, before brightening again. "Still, I was lucky! No offence Harry but your relatives sound awful."

"They are. They used to -" Harry was interrupted, as Neville gave a dismal howl.

"I've lost Trevor!" he moaned. Ron and Mal gave him exasperated looks.

"Trevor?" Harry asked, lost.

"My toad! He was a present form my uncle Algie, for the first time I did accidental magic. I can't lose him, Gran'll be furious."

"Calm down Neville. We'll find him." Ron said, placatingly.

"He's a toad, he can't have hopped far." Mal added sliding the door open.

They didn't get far, before they came across a bushy haired girl, sitting in the corridor, reading. From the lack of crest on her robes, Mal realised she was a first year.

"Neville's lost a toad. Want to help us look?" he asked her. After all, if she was out here, she probably hadn't exactly made friend. Judging from the eagerness with which she jumped up, Mal was right.

"Oh, yes of course! I'd be quite happy to help. Perhaps if I go with Neville, was it, and you go with your friends to opposite ends of the train and meet in the middle?" this was all said incredibly quickly, and Mal blinked.

"Okay?" he did feel slightly guilty about pawning her off onto Neville, especially after she latched onto him and started rattling out sentences at the speed of the train they were on. Then he remembered that otherwise, she'd be with him, and his resolve stiffened. Collecting Harry and Ron, they moved through the train pausing at each compartment, repeating the same routine each time. Until they reached a compartment that contained a group that was a mix of Slytherin, Ravenclaw and first year students. One of the first years a stringy boy Mal thought looked vaguely familiar spoke up before they could start their usual spiel.

"Well well well," he drawled. "If it isn't Draco Malfoy, hanging out with a blood traitor."

_Nott. _That was his name. Firmly remembering the lessons Aunt Andromeda had given him, he switched firmly into, 'dealing with arrogant traditionalist' mode.

"Hello Nott. Have you seen a toad? We're looking for one. Neville Longbottom's lost his."

He could feel Harry giving him a wary look, and he forced himself to stay calm, especially after Nott gave him the sort of look you'd expect to give to something nasty on the bottom of a shoe.

"Didn't you hear me, Malfoy? I said, why are you hanging out with a blood traitor?" the nasal whine grated, and Mal's fingers twitched.

_I am really really sorry Harry, for what I'm about to do_.

"Because I wouldn't have thought that even you would call Harry Potter a blood-traitor, Nott." he said, and allowed the tiniest smirk through the mask. Mainly because Nott looked like he'd just been slapped with a wet fish. He pulled himself together depressingly quickly though, and the rest of the compartment suddenly had a very hungry air.

_We need to get out of here. Preferably without alienating them._

"Yes, Harry Potter. Or did you mean Weasley, here? Personally, I don't see how my associates effect you Nott. Surely my 'lowering myself' just makes you look better in that respect?"

_And you need all the help you can get._

Nott looked sceptical, before sniffing.

"You can associate with whomever you please Malfoy. But Harry, I can call you Harry, I would think twice about who you_ associate _with. Wouldn't want to see you associating with the wrong sort, would we?" Nott attempt at friendliness was so fake that Ron snorted and Mal elbowed him in the ribs.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks." Harry said, cooly, before they slammed the compartment shut. Running out of earshot, they collapsed in hysterical laughter.

"Who _were_ they?" Harry asked.

"Purebloods." Ron said curtly, and Mal elbowed him again, ignoring his grunt of complaint.

"_We're _purebloods, Ron. They're traditionalists."

"We're _blood-traitors_. As if liking a group of people means you're a traitor to magic." Ron scoffed. Harry was looking at them, a mixture of hurt and bewilderment, and Mal realised what he must be thinking.

_It must be awful to think you've escaped an awful place to a much better one, and then find out ours is a messed up..._

"Ignore them Harry. And Ron, but that's easy."

"_Draco..._" Mal smirked at Ron's growl. The three of them sat quietly for a moment, before realising they were in the middle of a corridor, and they did actually have a task to do.

"This is stupid," Mal realised. "Why don't we just ask a prefect? Ron, go ask Percy."

"What did your last slave die of?" Ron grumbled and Mal gave him a beatific look.

"I seem to remember pushing him off a moving train when he wouldn't go ask his brother for help."

Ron rolled his eyes, but went up to the Prefect's compartment, while Harry and Mal returned to theirs. They were quiet for a little while, watching fields and trees flick past, when Ron and Neville, who was clutching Trevor, came in. They were followed closely by the bush haired girl.

"Yes?" Mal asked, dryly.

"I beg your pardon?" asked the girl, indignantly.

"Can we...help you?"

"Well! I assumed because I helped you find your toad I could sit with you."

The boys held a silent conference, before coming to an agreement.

"Fine. Just, read, or whatever." Mal told her, before raising an eyebrow. No one should be that happy at being told they could sit somewhere of sufferance. The boys struck up a conversation, and it returned to magic, after Neville asked Mal what he'd done with the book Michael had got him for his birthday. Ron then shared the spell Fred and George had given him the day before, but they were disappointed when it had absolutely no effect on Scabbers. In the corner, the girl tutted.

"What." Ron asked irritably.

"Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells for practice and they've all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard – I've learnt all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough – I'm Hermione Granger by the way, who are you? I mean Neville already introduced himself, he's not rude like some people."

The boys looked at each other in stunned disbelief.

"Ron Weasley." Ron muttered shaking his head.

"Mal." said, Mal, stonily. Hermione looked at him, unimpressed.

"That's not exactly a _proper_ name, is it?"

"_Draco Malfoy_." he enunciated, glaring at the girl. Why did she care anyway? And he had been going to be _nice _to her. Now she was looking expectantly at Harry.

"Oh. Harry Potter."

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you of course, I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History _and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts _and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. _I think _you _were in there too, somewhere. As a footnote." she directed this last bit at Mal, who pulled a face. Harry on the other Hand, looked dazed.

"Am I?"

"Goodness, didn't you know? I'd have found out everything I could if it was me." said Hermione. "Do any of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and Gryffindor sounds by far the best. I hear Dumbledore himself was a Gryffindor."

Mal made an abortive movement, and Ron and Neville eyed him warily. Mal could get _insistent_ about houses.

"That book you told me about was interesting, Mal." Harry said, only half answering Hermione, Mal noticed with a selfish glee. "I didn't really get why there's so much rivalry between the Houses, when their ideas are usually so different. Surely they shouldn't clash _that _much."

Hermione was showing lively interest in Harry's point.

"Oh you mean like how Slytherin's dark Harry-" was as far as she got before Mal lunged across the compartment. Luckily, Ron and Neville held him back before he could actually touch Hermione, although he had succeeded in terrifying her.

"That's _so _typical of Muggle-Borns. They come in, and of _course _they listen to the first thing they hear, they never bother to actually find out from _Slytherins _themselves!" Mal ranted 'Ooh Slytherin are all dark' 'there wasn't a witch or wizard who was in Slytherin who didn't go dark' my Aunt Andromeda is one of the bravest, kindest people I'll ever meet and she was in Slytherin. 'Ooh Gryffindor is the best House!' well they never tell anyone about the witches or wizards that when dark in Gryffindor! Or the fact that _Merlin _was a Slytherin! And you never hear about brave Hufflepuffs, like Tonks who's an _Auror_ which is one of the hardest and _bravest _things you can be! The only reason you don't is that unlike Gryffindor, Hufflepuffs aren't show-offs and prats!" Mal took a huge, shuddering breath as he finished his tirade, and slumped back down on the seat. Across from him, Hermione's eyes started to well up.

"You are horrid!" she managed to get out, before bursting into tears.

"Oh Merlin's _pants_!" Mal swore. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to have a go at you."

"We could have told you Mal gets touchy about that stuff, if you'd thought before speaking." Ron told her, and Mal laughed at the irony. Hermione, was at least, pulling herself together, although next to her Harry still looked pale.

"So...Slytherin have a bad reputation. But why?" Harry asked, and Mal gave an inward sigh of relief.

_That was bloody stupid, exploding like that. But what with all the excitement, and no sleep, I should have probably expected it. _He only had time to note that the world was going fuzzy at the edges before he drifted off.

* * *

><p>Harry looked at Mal, expecting an answer, before raising his eyebrows. Ron looked at the blond haired boy, and gave a laugh of disbelief.<p>

"Has he just _fallen _asleep?" Ron gave Mal a poke in the ribs, before laughing again. "He has...idiot."

"Don't wake him up Ron." Neville said imploringly. "You know what he's like."

After a little bickering, the four of them returning to their conversation about the houses. Ron admitted to Harry that if it weren't for knowing Mrs Tonks, he'd probably still think all Slytherins were evil, and that he was still a little uncomfortable knowing it was one Mal's houses of choice. At around half twelve, a lady came around with a trolley, and Ron and Neville introduced Harry to the wonderful world of wizarding sweets. After Hermione haughtily informed them that her parents were dentists, leaving Harry to explain to Neville and Ron what that meant, she returned to her book. Although she did seem to be more engrossed in thought than her book. Harry found out a little more about his new friends' families, Ron's brother in Romania, the fact that Neville lived with his grandmother, and the fact (that Harry was under no circumstances to share,) that Mal's parents had been followers of You-Know-Who, and that they had sacrificed themselves to save Mal. And that they had also been Slytherins, which Harry supposed explained why Mal was so touchy about the house situation. It had certainly given Harry a lot to think about.

As it began to grow dark, Hermione slipped out of the compartment, returning a few moments later to inform them they were nearly there. Harry began to change into his robes as Ron shook Mal awake.

"Rise and Shine Malfoy." a wicked grin crossed his face. "Mal...you're drooling!" he sang, and Mal shot awake, cracking his head on the lid of Harry's trunk. Rubbing his head with an air of injured pride, he shot a scornful glare at Ron.

"I don't _drool_ Weasley."

"Sure you don't"

They carried on bickering as they got changed, and Harry glanced at Neville, the boy's round face a look of practised suffering.

"Are they always like this?" Harry asked.

"Worse, sometimes." Neville replied, exasperation clear in his voice. Harry winced.

As the train stopped, they pushed their way into the corridor and off the train, where the platform was a solid mass of people. Then a yellow light came bobbing out of the darkness, and Harry felt a rush of relief as he saw Hagrid, who was gathering the first years. A short boat ride (in which they managed to separate themselves from Hermione) and their first look at the castle later, they arrived in the grounds of Hogwarts Castle, where a beam of moonlight shone upon its great oak front door.

"Everybody still here?"

With no cries of dissent, Hagrid raised a gigantic fist, and knocked three times on the door.

* * *

><p><strong>AN Oof. This chapter kicked my ass, hard. Trying to stay faithful to canon characterisation of Harry and Hermione, whilst making Mal still reminiscent of 'Malfoy, Draco Malfoy', but different enough to be his own self, and subtly changing Ron and Neville enough so that they're the same characters we know and love? SERIOUSLY hard. And I'm probably gonna get hate for writing them OOC, but oh well. Frustratingly, I was going to post it when I finished, last night/this morning but my internet died. Ho hum. **


	5. The Sorting Hat

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. Judging by the stern look on her face, and Tonks' vivid description, this was Professor McGonagall.

_Tonks was right – she really doesn't look like someone to cross._

Hagrid handed them over to her, and she led them in the Entrance Hall. Mal could feel his grin widening as he took in its splendour – the stories of the Hall, with it's marble staircases – and of course the jewel filled hourglasses belonging to each house, placed in comparison to the real thing. Around him, he could hear the other first years' gasps of awe.

Professor McGonagall led them into an ante-chamber of the Great Hall, or at least that's what Mal assumed it was, in part from family descriptions, and partly because of the buzz of people coming from the other side of the door. Once inside, the huddled together – probably closer than they otherwise would. Most of them peered round nervously, although, some – like Nott, attempted a look of boredom.

_And it would work, if his hands weren't shaking..._ Mal noted with amusement.

Professor McGonagall gave her welcome speech – carefully avoiding mentions of her own house, and or any of the biases that might of formed between the houses. Mal's respect for her grew, knowing from Tonks that McGonagall was fiercely loyal to her own house where it mattered. Somehow, he doubted that Professor Snape would be so generous.

_Still, that's why she's the Deputy Head, isn't it?_ He mused.

As Professor McGonagall, the first-years began to fidget – some, like Harry trying to flatten his hair, after her suggestion that they smarten themselves up, others just looking faintly nauseous.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Harry asked, nervously.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

"Fred also turned your teddy bear into a spider when we were three...I don't know that at believe anything he says." Mal pointed out, and both Ron and Harry's faces brightened. Still for all he was outwardly calm, he felt as nervous as Ron and Harry looked. It didn't help that Hermione Granger was practically hissing a list of spells she'd memorised in his ear, and fretting that they would be enough.

_You're lucky_. Mal told himself in attempt to quell his nerves. _Wherever I go, my family'll be happy. They might be _surprised _if I end up in Gryffindor or something, but they'll be happy for me, as long as I am. Not like Ron. And everyone expects Harry to be like his parents. _A smirk snuck over Mal's face as he imagined the reactions that the rest of the school would have if 'the Boy-Who-Lived' ended up in Slytherin. He snorted.

_Never going to happen._

He was abruptly jolted from his contemplation by a scream that came from at least three people. Mal swore, whilst beside him Harry jumped about a foot in the air.

"What the-?"

Mal turned and he could see the reason for panic – about twenty ghost had just popped through the wall, talking to each other. Mal's rapidly hammering heartbeat slowed down – especially as one of the ghosts 'noticed' the first years.

_Like they really didn't notice it was the start of term..._ Mal thought sarcastically. Fortunately Professor McGonagall returned before this theory, shooing the ghosts and herding the first years into the Great Hall. Which was...

_Wow._ Just like the rest of Hogwarts, stories didn't do it justice. The ceiling, enchanted to look like the night sky made the moving Star Map Mal had at home look completely pathetic in comparison. It was hard to believe that it was only an illusion. But the ceiling itself vied for attention with the candles, floating above the tables, and the glittering golden goblets and plates. And the legion of staring eyes that were already in place at the House tables.

Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool at the front of the hall, below the teacher's table, upon which she placed an extremely bedraggled looking hat.

_What on earth?_ Mal wondered, before the hat burst into song.

* * *

><p>As the Hat finished explaining the qualities of the houses, the hall gave a huge round of applause. Next to her, Hermione heard the red headed boy from the train, Ron, whispering to his friends; 'I'll kill Fred' (whoever Fred was) he kept going on about how we had to wrestle a troll!'. Hermione smiled unwillingly before frowning. Trying a hat on was all very well, but what if it decided she wasn't good enough? She really didn't want to be seen as stupid – and Mum and Dad hadn't really wanted her to go to Hogwarts, so she really didn't want to know what they'd say then. It was part of the reason she worked so hard over the summer. She had to admit, she didn't exactly feel any of the qualities the hat had mentioned at the moment. Most of the Sorting went fairly smoothly, each person going up being Sorted and then moving to their new house table, with only a few delays, like Finnegan, Seamus. Then it got to a heavyset, boy Goyle, Gregory – which Hermione realised with a jolt, meant she was next. It sat on his head for well over a minute, and it looked as if his lips were moving. Maybe that hat was broken and they were going to stop the Sorting! Hermione panicked, before the hat <em>eventually <em>called out Hufflepuff!

There was a low whistle, from that blond boy with stupid name – the one who'd nearly made her cry on the train.

"Was not expecting that...Good on him." he murmured.

"Why?" Harry asked. Hermione tried desperately not to listen, but she hating not knowing things.

"He's one of the traditionalist people we told you about. Pretty sure everyone was expecting him to go to Slytherin. If only because they're the only house that wouldn't be intimidated by him."

"But I thought Gryffindor was the brave house?"

"There's a difference between bravery and intimdation-"

"_Granger, Hermione." _Professor McGonagall's voice was irritated, and Hermione felt her face growing hot as she hurried forward. She'd been called and she hadn't heard, everyone was looking at her and -

"Well, what have we here?" a small voice said in her ear. Hermione squeaked, looking round before she heard a chuckle, "Relax dearie, just doing my job..."

Oh. It was the Sorting Hat.

"Oh, now _this _is interesting. You're conflicted...you thought Gryffindor was the best house, where you wanted to be, but now you're not so sure?"

Hermione started – if that stupid boy on the train. But it wasn't just _Mal _or whatever he called himself had said, she realised, it was the conversation the others had had whilst he had been asleep.

"And now you see your dilemma." The Sorting Hat said, sounding amused. "You wanted to go to Gryffindor, because it was the best, but are you so sure it's the best house for _you_? With a keen, enquiring mind like yours dearie, Gryffindor would frustrate you endlessly." Hermione wavered.

_Where_ _would you put me then?_ She thought her 'voice' sounding lost. She thought she felt the hat smile, before opening its brim again.

"For you? Best place, no doubt about it, is RAVENCLAW!_"_

Hermione stood up to polite applause, before staggering over to join her new housemates at the Ravenclaw table.

_A ready mind, wit, and learning. That feels..._right_._

Next to Mal, Ron gave a sigh of relief, as Hermione was sorted into Ravenclaw. He snorted, before elbowing him in the ribs again.

"Don't be mean." Mal told Ron, who scoffed.

"Oh come _on_, as if you would want her in your house."

Mal raised his eyebrows, grinning wickedly.

"Still could be Ron...I'll tell her you said that, if I am."

Ron blanched, and took an involuntary step back, before his eyes narrowed.

"You wouldn't - you wouldn't be Ravenclaw acting like that anyway." he pointed out and Mal shrugged, eyes widening, as if to say, 'who knows?'

_Ah Ron. So easy to wind up. I'll miss being able to do that all the time._

He would just have to make sure to be extra 'helpful' when they saw each other in class, if they did in fact share any.

"Longbottom, Neville." Professor McGonagall called, and Mal's nerves returned, this time on behalf of his friend. Both he and Ron gave the clumsier boy a pack on the back, and wished him luck before he left them. He wasn't sat on the stool for nearly as long as Goyle, Hermione or Seamus Finnegan, but Neville's would definitely be a memorable sorting. When the hat finally called out 'GRYFFINDOR' he ran to the table still wearing the hat and he had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to 'MacDougal Morag, who joined him in Gryffindor.

And then it was Mal's turn. All of a sudden his mouth felt very dry. He managed to walk up to the hat with a false confidence, despite the flurry of whispers that followed him. He braced himself as the Hat dropped onto his head.

"Interesting." the hat said. "_very interesting_. Let's see – my you're definitely tenacious, and loyal, hmm but with some clear ambitions." the hat paused for a long while You want to prove yourself for your family, do you? Quite a keen mind too – but I think you're too firmly grounded for Ravenclaw. Yes this is most difficult. Your loyalty and sense of justice would mark you out a Hufflepuff, but no, the best place for you to achieve your ambitions is SLYTHERIN!"

Mal let the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding escape with a whoosh. Those already at the Slytherin table, a few of whom he knew vaguely, were looking at him with interest.

* * *

><p>Harry wasn't sure what to make of the look on Mal's face as he joined the rest of the Slytherins. It was sort of a mixture of relief, jubilation and disappointment, although he had no idea how that was even possible. He looked quite at home though – unlike Hermione at the Ravenclaw table, who despite her best attempts to start a conversation, was being ignored. There weren't many people left now, 'Moon' Gryffindor, 'Nott'...'Parkinson' – Slytherin... then a pair of twin girls, Patil and Patil, who went to Ravenclaw and Gryffindor respectively, then 'Perks, Sally-Anne' and then, at last-<p>

"Potter, Harry."

As Harry walked forward, whispers broke out across the hall again, far louder than they had been for either Mal or Goyle.

"Potter, did she say?"

"_The_ Harry Potter?"

He kept his eyes firmly glued to the floor, so he missed the encouraging look Mal gave him. Ears burning, the last thing he saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was almost everyone in the hall craning to get a good look at him.

"Hmm," a little voice said. "Difficult. Very Difficult. Plenty of courage I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself...So where shall I put you?"

Harry gripped the edge of the stool. How was he supposed to know? Wasn't that the the hat's job? The hat chuckled.

"Well, it's all here in your head. Slytherin can help you on the way to greatness – and that's what you need isn't it, 'Boy-Who-Lived'?"

Harry started, surprised that the hat knew who he was.

"Don't look so surprised boy – I sorted the one that gave you that scar – and I remember it all to well. Yes it's clear to me now. SLYTHERIN!"

The silence was so absolute that Harry could hear the blood rushing through his head. Head take two steps before the whispering started again and he could _feel _himself going crimson. Then someone at the Slytherin table started clapping – Mal, of course it was, Harry could almost hug him! The rest of the Slytherin table joined in, and before he was even halfway across the room, the thunderous applause of the Slytherin's drowned out any shocked whispers. He sat down next to Mal, who patted him on the back, knees shaking slightly. Harry still felt slightly dazed, but he came back to himself to note some of the reactions in the room. The majority of Slytherin looked curious although one boy looked disproportionately frustrated – until Harry saw the flash of money changing hands under the table. Next to him Mal was grinning, whilst Hermione and Neville just looked shocked, where Ron was wary and his twin brothers were looking at him with a hungry interest that made Harry gulp uneasily.

"Welcome to Slytherin Harry" Mal said, and Harry gave a shaky laugh.

It wasn't what he'd been expecting, but at least he _had a house_!

* * *

><p>To say that the Sorting Harry Potter in Slytherin wasn't something Mal had been expecting was an understatement.<p>

_I did sort of jinx it though_, he thought ruefully. It would be interesting to see what the others thought of it, and he almost involuntarily glanced up at the teacher's table. _Well that's interesting..._ he thought. Professor Dumbledore looked almost disappointed – no that couldn't be right, while a teacher in a purple turban seemed to be way too happy about Harry's Sorting, in Mal's view. Professor Snape on the other hand...Mal laughed quietly. Professor Snape looked as if he didn't know whether to laugh, or cry – at least Mal was pretty sure it was Snape: 'big nose, black greasy hair, looks like a bat' had been Tonk's description, and he didn't see anyone else that fitted it around here.

_I wonder what ruffled his feathers?_ Mal pondered, before returning his attention back to the Sorting.

It had resumed its usual pace after the awkwardness following Harry's sorting, and was going through at quite a pace – although it could just be that the wait was marginally less agonising now. Ron was called up, which was good as that meant there were only a few people left, and Mal was getting hungry.

It came as no surprise when he joined his brothers at the Gryffindor table, and Mal was sure that Fred and George's catcalls were almost as loud as the rest of their house's applause put together. Finally, Zabini, Blaise joined them at the Slytherin table, and they were ready to start the feast.

Mal groaned good-naturedly as he saw Dumbledore get to his feet and Harry prodded him – startling Mal, as he hadn't thought Harry would be willing to join in with the casual physical abuse that he and Ron used to show affection.

"What?" Mal whispered crossly.

"Don't be rude!" Harry said, mock piously and Mal grimaced.

"I'm _hungry_!" he hissed, but nevertheless returned his attention to the man in the ornate robes at the front of the Hall.

"Welcome!" he beamed "Welcome to another new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few word, and here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

There were a few sniggers as he sat down, but everyone clapped and cheered. Judging by the stunned look on Harry's face, he was as bemused as Mal was.

"Is he a bit mad?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"Just a bit – but don't let that fool you – he's still one of the sharpest minds out there you'd do well to keep an eye on him" a pretty dark haired girl with a badge by the snake on her robes said. "I'm Gemma Farley by the way, prefect for Slytherin house."

Harry nodded, and Mal filed that bit of information away for further use, because here was _food_. And what food it was.

Mal made a blissful noise as he bit into a chicken leg and the girl across from him raised her eyebrows.

"Don't they feed you at home, Malfoy?" she asked snidely. She had a face a bit like a pugs, Mal thought a little cruelly.

"It's Mal, actually." he said, raising his voice subtly, so he wouldn't have to repeat himself. "And yes they do, my aunt's cooking is great actually, but food is always better when it's flavoured with hunger, don't you think? What was your name again?"

She looked vaguely affronted by the slight insult.

"Pansy Parkinson. Which you'd know if your aunt wasn't married to a mudblood."

Everyone else at the table suddenly took on a very alert tone. Mal frowned pensively, although he really wished that this whole stupid posturing thing didn't have to happen right _now_.

_And that would have been one reason why it would have been nicer in Hufflepuff. No power plays._

"Really Pansy?" he asked sardonically. "You're being that obvious? Besides, I don't see why the blood-status of my relatives is so important. It's not as if everyone in Slytherin is a pureblood, is it?"

A few of the older students shifted, as well as a blonde girl who'd been sorted a little before Ron.

"Well-" she started.

"It's physically impossible isn't it?" The blonde girl added, a faint hint of the north in her accent. "Otherwise there'd be no wizarding world left. I'm Sophie Roper, since you didn't ask." she added. Pansy gaped, and there was a silent sense of approval in the air. Harry Mal noted, had stayed very quiet throughout the exchange, and was watching everyone carefully.

"She has a point, Pansy." Blaise Zabini, the dark skinned boy who'd been sorted last added. "And Mal, " he smiled "does too. Besides, didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to bring up blood-status at the dinner table?"

Pansy scowled and Mal shot Blaise a grateful look. He nodded slowly, and with that the tension eased. Everyone went back to eating, and normal conversations – the first years introducing themselves, and talking about their first incidents of accidental magic.

"How did you do that?" Harry asked Mal quietly.

"Do what?" Mal asked, whilst wondering why on earth there were mint humbugs on the table.

"Be all formal like that. You did it on the train too, with Nott." Harry said, giving Mal a look that said he clearly wasn't buying Mal's innocent act.

"Training." Mal admitted, before continuing just as quietly as Harry. My aunt grew up in that sort of environment, and she really didn't want me or Tonks ending up in _situations, _we wouldn't prepared for. So she's been giving us lessons since we were old enough to understand. Not the whole muggle-borns are scum rubbish that _some_ people believe" he shot a poisonous glare at Nott and Pansy, who were currently deep in conversation, probably about Mal's rudeness. "But the whole – how they expect you to act, what's proper and what's not," his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "What fork to use for what course."

Harry's eyes widened.

"Sounds scary." he said.

Mal cocked his head as if admitting the point, before turning his attention back to his food. This was really really good.

_I'll have to go down to the kitchens to compliment the cooks. And snaffle a few eclairs or something while I'm down there, maybe._

The rest of the meal passed in somewhat of a blur. There was a disturbing moment after the Bloody Baron made an appearance, right next to Mal, but other than that it was surprisingly fun – especially since most people were ignoring Pansy and Nott. Harry seemed to get a lot of attention though – not completely friendly, but all of it curious.

After people finally seemed to have had their fill, the food vanished – which was probably a good thing, as Mal thought he had possibly eaten his own weight in food. Dumbledore stood up, and announced his the usual warnings – although Mal missed the last one, something about an out of bounds area as his eyelids grew heavier by the moment.

He was roused suddenly by a deafening rendition of the school song.

_And whoever thinks it's a good idea to get over 200 people singing the same song to conflicting tunes needs their heads checking..._Mal winced as the noted clashed painfully. Fortunately it was over when the Weasley twins finished their funeral dirge – and it _would _be Fred and George, of course.

Gemma the prefect stood up as soon as they were finished, and ushered the first years out of the Hall, before they had a chance to speak to the other houses.

_Or start a fight with them._

As she guided them down to the dungeons she gave a little spiel, which Mal had the sneaking suspicion she'd practised.

"Well, I'm very pleased to welcome you to Slytherin house - you might have heard rumours about us – that we're all into the Dark Arts, and will only talk to you if your great-grandfather was a famous wizard, and rubbish like that. Well, you don't want to believe everything you hear from competing houses. I'm not denying that we've produced our share of Dark wizards, but so have the other three houses – they just don't like admitting it." she smirked as they rounded yet another corner, where they found themselves confronted with a featureless wall. Speaking the password, Gemma stepped through the opening it had created and into the common room.

It was cool, in a spooky way, and despite the underwater effect of the windows, it was actually quite cosy. If a little more silver and green than Mal was used to.

"The password to the common room changes every fortnight. Keep an eye on the noticeboard. Never bring anyone from another house into our common room or tell them our password. No outsider has entered it for more than seven centuries." Gemma looked rather intimidating as she said this, and beside Mal, Harry gulped. "Well I think that's all for now – I'll let you get to your domitories – boys on the right, girls on the left. I'll be more than happy to answer any questions tomorrow, as long as I'm not busy, OK?"

There was a quiet murmur of assent, before the group split into two.

Their things were waiting for them in the dormitory, trunks propped open at the feet of silver and green hung four poster beds. Thankfully, Mal noted, Blaise was in the middle, separating Mal and Harry from Nott and Vincent Crabbe, the other Slytherin boy.

Exhausted again, Mal changed quickly, before flopping into bed.

"Night Harry." Was all he managed to mutter before the lead in his eyelids proved too heavy, and he wasn't even sure he heard Harry answer before he was lost in blissful sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN Aaaand cue flamers. Just kidding, all reviews are welcome, and I am genuinely interested in what you think about my Sorting choices. If you do have any queries, like you want to know my reasoning, review or PM and I will get back to you. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, mes amis :)**

**Also, congrats to whirlwind 29 on being follower no. 30! and all the rest of you guys who have reviewed, followed or favourited this fic, thank you. It is supremely awesome and incredibly surreal to have this much support in such a short space of time :)**


	6. Potions and Reconciliatons

**Disclaimer: Surprise! I AM JK Rowling! This story is, wait what? Oh, ok. Yeah je ne suis pas la proprieteuse de Poudlard, Harry Potter ou tous les autre personnages dans le monde de Harry Potter. **

* * *

><p>The whispering started the next day, rumours and gossip shadowing them wherever they went.<p>

"The Boy-Who-Lived, a Slytherin?"

"Did you see him? There next to the really blond kid?"

"Isn't that the Malfoy kid? Do you think his dad really tried to kill You-Know-Who?"

"Never mind _that, _Potter actually did! Did you see his scar?"

Mal wasn't sure what was worse, that people were staring at them because Harry was the Boy-Who-Lived, or because the Boy-Who-Lived was a Slytherin. It wasn't as bad as it could have been though, as a few of their fellow first-years, mainly Blaise Zabini and Sophie Roper formed a sort of honour guard around Harry, perhaps prompted by Prefect Farley's speech, and so protected him from the worst of the stares.

Then there was Ron.

The first morning after the sorting, they had gone up for breakfast early, excited for their first proper day at Hogwarts. There weren't many people there yet, a few at Ravenclaw's table, including one distinctively bushy haired brunette. But it was the red head and sandy haired boy at the Gryffindor table that made Mal and Harry grin.

"Want to go say hi to Ron and Neville?" Mal asked. Harry looked around nervously. The Slytherin table was still mostly deserted.

"Yeah, sure, but...won't we get in trouble? No one seemed to be talking to anyone outside their own house last night." Harry pointed out, and Mal rolled his eyes.

"Come on Harry, they're not going to take points for _talking_. Besides, Dumbledore's supposed to be all about House unity, right? We'll probably get _rewarded_."

But there'd barely taken two steps before they each felt a hand on their shoulder.

"Going to talk to Ron?"

"I wouldn't recommend it"

Mal and Harry turned to see the Weasley twins.

"What do you know?" asked Mal, suspiciously. The twins immediately looked shifty, before darting between the two Slytherins and the Gryffindor table.

"He was being a bit...touchy last night."About your Sortings, specifically." Admitted George

"Course, you know ickle Ronniekins, more earwax than brains -" added Fred

"Yeah, we don't mind you being in Slytherin."

"It gives us some inside men, for future...opportunities." Fred grinned wolfishly, as Mal crossed his arms, unimpressed.

"We are not helping you prank our own house." said Mal, flatly. George looked put out, but Fred merely looked speculative.

"Are you sure? We could provide remuneration of a sort. What say you, Harry?"

"Um, Harry?" George added when he didn't respond.

The dark haired boy was staring at the Gryffindor table, a lost look on his face.

"I thought he was my friend." Harry said, quietly. Far too quietly for Ron to hear, but he looked up nevertheless, as if he'd somehow known he was being talked about. As he made eye contact with Harry, he flushed crimson, and hastily turned away, hurriedly engaging Neville in conversation.

"Idiot." said Fred scornfully.

"Yeah don't worry about our stupid brother, Harry, we'll hex him for you, if you want." George suggested, grin far too eager.

"No, don't. Wouldn't want him to think his stupid prejudice is _right_ or anything." Harry said bitterly."C'mon Mal. Lets go eat with people who don't automatically assume having a snake on your robes makes you evil." he stormed off, leaving a slightly bemused Mal and Weasley twins in his wake.

"What was that all about?" Fred asked, raising his eyebrows. Mal wasn't sure, but he had an inkling. Some of the things he'd said about his relatives as they'd been getting ready, that if people made friends with Harry, they were just as quickly dissuaded by his bully of a cousin. Ron's reaction was obviously bringing bad memories back.

"Forget it, OK? You wouldn't understand." he told them, turning to go join Harry. As he left, they twins called out to him.

"By the way Mal, we meant what said before." Fred shouted.

"Yeah, we know you're not going to become the next Dark Lord just because you're in Slytherin!"

"Nah, you were on that path _way _before Hogwarts!"

"It takes one to know one!" Mal retorted as he sat down. "Gits." he muttered, not unfondly, to Harry. The dark haired boy gave him a worried smile.

"D'you really think he'll come round?" he asked, quietly. Mal grimaced.

"Who knows? Fred and George're right though, Ron needs time to get big changes through his head.

The rest of the week passed mostly without incident. Professor McGonagall was a good teacher – stern but fair, even with the Slytherins. And she'd certainly impressed everyone by turning her desk into a pig and back. Professor Flitwick, too, had a knack of making lessons interesting, even if he did fall off his chair when he read Harry's name. Three times a week they went down to the greenhouses to learn Herbology form Professor Sprout. It would have been fascinating, if they hadn't had it with Ravenclaws – Hermione Granger seemed to have alienated herself from everyone with her insistence on answering _all _the questions Professor Sprout asked.

_Still, she's probably better off in Ravenclaw – she actually has competition, not just people taking the mickey like Gryffindor would._

History of Magic and Defence on the other hand, were a joke – the most interesting thing that had happened in Professor Binns class was him floating through the blackboard. Mal quickly resolved to owl Tonks for her old History of Magic essays, and use the class for more useful things. Defence Against the Dark Arts was disappointing for another reason. Professor Quirrel was almost impossible to understand, his stutter distracting from his teaching, as did the odd smell that lingered in his classroom. Several of the students had theories about his ridiculous purple turban as well, as he had never given a straight answer about its origin. No, Mal decided, Professor Quirrel was probably one of his least favourite teachers.

Friday however, dawned bright and sunny, and Mal's grin brightened as two Owls came to visit him at breakfast. One was form Aunt Drom and Uncle Ted, a care package from home, plus an essay-length letter he thought would probably be better read in private. But it was Tonks' scribbled note that had Mal in stitches.

_Hi there little cuz!,_

_I got your letter, and sorry, but I'm not giving you my History essays. I will send you my notes, but that's it. A bit of hard work never killed anyone. I hope you're holding up in the house of the Snakes, and you haven't made any permanent enemies in your first week. Mum and Dad are super proud, but I think there a bit worried for you too – after all, mum has first hand experience of all the sneaky dealings in Slytherin. How's Harry? People at work were __**very**__ interested in that Sorting, let me tell you. Half the people think it's proof that he really is a dark as some idiots think he is, but those who don't think Y-K-W is really gone think it means he'll end up getting rid of him for good. Just for very different reasons. __**Anyway**__, I actually wrote to ask you to check a rumour out for me. __**Not**__ what's on the third floor corridor, Dumbledore as his reasons, checking it out is a dumb idea Mal. And tricking Ron into doing it is just mean. (And will only prove his dumb ideas). No, there is a rumour about Snape's first year potions lessons..._

Following this was a short transcript, at which Mal's laughter drew Harry's attention. Shortly after Harry joined him in fits of giggles.

_If it __**is**__ true, you'll have made my __**life**__. See you at chrimbo, and try not to do anything too stupid. Not unless you can get pictures ;)_

_Lotsa luv, _

_**Tonks x**_

* * *

><p>"Do you really think its true?" Harry said eventually, once they had regained control of themselves.<p>

"Who knows? I almost hope it's not true, otherwise I'm never going to be able to keep a straight face."

"What have you got there, Draco?" a cool voice came from behind them.

"Letter from home."

"And what on earth is so amusing?"

"Here, read it if you want." Mal handed the letter over to Blaise Zabini, who's mouth twitched as he read the letter. As he reached the section about Snap he give a slight snort, before handing it back to Mal.

"It will certainly be _interesting_ to see if your cousin's suspicions are correct." he nodded at the two of them before sitting down for his own breakfast. They chatted for a little while before Mal and Harry excused themselves, Harry a little more reluctantly

"What did you do that for? I wasn't done!" Harry complained as Mal tugged him down to the common room.

"If Tonks is right, Snape always picks on someone. Scare the ickle firsties, big himself up, yadayada."

"And you think it'll be me? Why?"

"You're famous, like it or not. And you _know _how weird Snape got around you the other day." Harry nodded remembering the incident. They had got rather lost, and they had come across Snape. Explaining their situation, he had given them highly helpful directions, but the entire time he had completely ignored looking Harry in the face. "So, if you swot up, then he can't yell at you. Unless he really wants to, but at least we can make a good impression."

Harry supposed Mal was right, but he could help thinking that his friend thought in corkscrews instead of straight lines. Still, there was know question that Professor Snape had some weird issues about Harry, and it _would_ be nice to win a few house points In fitting with their campaign to impress/annoy Professor Snape, the boys arrived to Potions a little early. Harry's heart sunk a little as Ron pointedly ignored him and Mal for the fourth time this week. At least Neville gave them a smile, which helped a little.

"Idiot." muttered Mal, expression calculating.

As they took their places in the dungeon classroom, Harry felt a whoosh of air sweep over him, nervously he looked around, only to see Daphne Greengrass smiling smugly at him.

"You were making me sick with that birds nest, Potter." she told him.

"What did she do?" Harry whispered nervously to to Mal, who seemed to be stifling a laugh.

"Looks good. No, really. She must have you some sort of hair charm because it's not all" Mal waved his hands around his head.

Snape swept in, robe billowing behind him.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." Snape's voice was low, eyes dark.

But the effect was somewhat spoiled by the sniggering Slytherins on the third row.

"Is something amusing, Potter, Malfoy?"

"No sir," they replied, trying desperately to school their features into something approaching respect. Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Since you seem to find my speech so amusing...Malfoy, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry watched Mal blanch at the question. The other boy frowned.

"I'm not sure sir...could you be more specific?"

Snape's jaw clenched

"Powdered root of asphodel, infusion of wormwood, Valerian root,a Sopophous bean and a sloth's brain are all ingredients of which potion?"

"Isn't the Draught of Living Death a NEWT level potion, professor?" Mal asked, politely, and Snape gave a dark smile.

"It is indeed Mr Malfoy. 10 points for an effective recovery...and for such advanced potions knowledge." the genuine smile Snape gave Mal turned nasty as he turned to Harry, who gulped. "Now, our new _celebrity_." several Gryffindors sniggered, and there were a few suspicious sounding coughs on the Slytherin side.

_I'm doomed_

"What, Potter is a bezoar?"

Harry looked at Snape nonplussed, even when they'd gone over their books this morning, he was sure he couldn't remember seeing any mention of a bezoar there.

"I don't know sir." he admitted reluctantly. Snape's eyes glittered maliciously.

"Clearly fame isn't everything. I suppose you thought your reputation would make you immune from any actual learning, hmm Potter?"

"I" Harry started, breaking off as Mal stepped on his foot.

"Very well, a question even a child would know the answer to. What, Potter, is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane."

A grin spread over Harry's face.

"None sir, they're the same plant. And it's sometimes called aconite too?"

"Are you asking me or telling me, Potter?" Snape carried on without giving him a chance to reply. "Surprisingly, Potter is correct, and a bezoar, for those of you are incapable of opening a book before my lessons, is a stone taken fro, the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most known poisons_." _He glared at the class. "Well, why aren't you writing all this down?"

There was a scurry of movement as people grabbed quills and parchment from their bags. As Professor Snape waved his wand lazily, the instruction for that days lesson appeared on the board. He started to explain his expectations, but was drawn short by Mal's raised hand.

"What is it, Mr Malfoy?" asked Snape, irritably.

"I was just wondering sir, whether we might swap partners for today. Promote inter-house unity and all that."

Snape frowned, obviously question Mal's motives. Then again so was Harry.

"Am I not good enough or something?" he joked.

"No, but Neville's really not. He's rubbish at Potions, and Snape breathing down his neck'll probably make it even worse." Mal whispered back, still looking as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

"Very well." Snape had reached his decision. "Each of you pick a partner who is not a house mate."

Harry couldn't help wondering if Mal had had more aims than just helping Neville, as the blond boy gave him a sneaky push towards the long nosed ginger boy at the back of the classroom.

"Hi Ron," said Harry, as he unpacked his things. The other boy grunted and Harry felt a spark of irritation. But ignored it for the moment, focusing on the instructions on the board – it definitely helped that they had gone over their book this morning. Eventually though, the building resentment got too much.

"Look, are you really going to ignore me and Mal just because we got sorted into Slytherin? Neville seems fine with it." Harry pointed out. Ron glanced over to the other boys' workstation, where Neville seemed to be looking at Mal with pure gratitude. Even as they watched, Neville laughed quietly as Mal made a joke, all the while helping his less skilled friend with his potion.

Ron looked back at Harry, ears tinged pink.

"Yeah, well Neville could probably out nice a Hufflepuff! It's just weird, okay? I-"

Ron cut himself off as Snape swept round to inspect their cauldrons. His lip curled as he looked at Ron's but his eyebrows raised as he examined Harry's.

"Acceptable, I suppose. Evidently you must have inherited _some _of your mother's abilities." he drawled, before billowing off to terrorise another pair. Harry felt a little sick. He wasn't sure whether it was the potion fumes or Snape's casual revelation.

"Snape knew my _mum_?"

"Maybe he went out with her?" Ron suggested, wickedly.

The whole class turned to stare at Harry exaggerated retching, as he pretended to vomit into his cauldron.

"5 points from Slytherin, Mr Potter. Potions classes are neither the time or the place for such ridiculous melodrama."

Harry nodded sheepishly, waiting until the Professor's back was turned, before driving an elbow into Ron's ribs.

"Thanks a lot for that, I'm never going to sleep again!"

"Slytherin's obviously infected you with a flair for the dramatic, then." Ron retorted still sniggering at Harry's horror-stricken expression.

After that it was almost as if there had never been a rift between them. Every time Ron made a joke, or asked Harry for a hand, as 'somehow you know what the heck Snape's on about' he had to force himself to look serious and studious. Especially when Snape looked around. Right now, nothing could top being friends with Ron again, not even when Mal won back the points Harry lost, plus ten more for stopping Neville from adding porcupine quills to his potion _before_ he took it off the fire.

"That's so unfair!" Ron grumbled. "if a Gryffindor helped Neville we'd probably get points taken off for 'interfering with another student's work"

"So _maybe_ it's a good thing Mal's in Slytherin" Harry muttered back, pointedly. "Otherwise Neville and whoever helped him would've lost points. He probably doesn't even care that much about Neville because Mal made Slytherin look good."

Ron looked at Harry with an expression that was half respect, half shame-faced embarrassment.

"I have been a git, haven't I"

"You think?" asked Harry sardonically, but grinned at Ron.

The rest of the class passed mostly without incident, although Ron was sent into a fit of near Apoplexy when Snape only took one point off of Crabbe for melting through his cauldron.

Finally though, they were free, and as they took off for break, Pansy Parkinson gave a theatrical sigh of relief.

"Well am I glad that _that's _over. Why on earth do we have to have lessons with the Gryffinbores, anyway?"

"It's obvious, isn't" asked Mal.

"No one asked you Malfoy!" she snapped back. "And don't think I didn't see you getting awfully chummy with Fatbottom or whatever his name is."

"But it _is_ obvious, isn't it?" Daphne Greengrass chimed in.

"Enlighten me."

"Snape _hates_ Gryffindor, right?" said Mal. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"As done anyone with half a brain. Which clearly means you and Potter are pretty brainless, hanging out with that blood-traitor."

"But he favours Slytherin." said Mal, as if Pansy hadn't spoken. "So whoever's in charge of timetabling put us together because they thought that Professor Snape's Slytherin favouring would outweigh is Gryffindor hating."

"So he'd give them a fair lesson!" Harry realised, blushing as he realised the rest of the Slytherin first-years were staring at them.

"It makes sense." said Blaise Zabini, as they slipped into the Slytherin common room. "After all, Snape couldn't very sabotage what he teaches the Gryffindors if he has to teach his own house too."

"Makes you wonder why he's a teacher." retorted Sophie Roper. "I'm not saying he isn't brilliant at Potions, 'cause he obviously is, but you can be a genius at something and still crap at explaining it." There was a thoughtful murmur of assent.

All the same, it was interesting to note that the dynamic between the first-years changed ever so slightly after that. Before then, the girls had mostly kept themselves apart from the boys, but with Sophie Roper being an odd man, or woman out. Harry and Mal too had kept themselves apart, while the other boys mostly stuck together, apart from when Blaise took it upon himself to be Harry's honour guard.

Now however, Pansy, Nott and Crabbe tended to stick together, usually being offensive to muggle-borns. Daphne, Tracey and Millicent had drifted into their own trio, only deigning to speak to the others when necessary. Not that they weren't polite, of course. And Blaise and Sophie had almost become real friends, revealing respectively a wicked knack for subtle sarcasm and an amazing ability at mimicry. Between making new friend and reconciling with a less new one, Harry was beginning to feel like he really, truly belonged at Hogwarts.

* * *

><p><strong>AN I never said I _wasn't_ going to update during NaNoWriMo... for reals though, this will probably be the last chapter for a while as I'm WAY behind with_ Raven's Child (_My NaNo, if folks where curious. You probably weren't. Oh well).I may have also been playing with some shiny new tech instead of writing :S) But yeah you have Trembling Secret to thank for this chapter as getting a fortieth follower (FORTIETH!) prompted the start of this chapter. After that, it just flowed. :) As always, reviews are SO welcome. Remember, it's the only way I get paid for writing, haha! But seriously, concrit reviews are such a smile booster :. Regular too, obviously. And questions and theories and...I'm going to stop now. ** Peace Love and Understanding to you all.****


	7. The Midnight Duel

**A/N All usual disclaimers apply**

* * *

><p>"What's got you looking so cheerful?" Harry asked as he came into the common room, and Mal grinned.<p>

"Flying lessons on Thursday, look."

"With the _Gryffindors._" Blaise chipped in, face sullen.

"They're not that bad, Blaise. Besides, I'm just looking forward to seeing the Abomination on a broom."

"What?" Blaise asked, bemused, while Harry looked at him oddly.

"Never mind."

The rest of the house varied wildly in their enthusiasm. The girls seemed to view the whole thing as rather distasteful, although whether that was due them having the lessons with the Gryffindors, or just at the concept of flying lessons in general, Mal couldn't tell. Sophie, however, seemed more panicked than unenthusiastic, and Mal couldn't help but wonder how much exposure she'd had to magic before Hogwarts. But this was Slytherin, after all and you just didn't ask about blood-status.

But Thursday came, and Mal cursed as he realised he'd slept in. He got dressed in a hurry, swearing at his shoes for seemingly hiding themselves in the most unlikely of places.

_How the heck did it end up _behind_ the wardrobe?_

He ran into the common room, grabbing his bag, and immediately felt guilty as he spotted a familiar head of messy black hair sticking over the back of an armchair.

"Hey,"

"Oh, hi Mal."

"You didn't have to wait for me you know."  
>"I know." Harry shrugged, a mischievous grin on his face. "I was going to give you five more minutes and then I was going to go in and pour water on your face."<br>"Thanks." Mal said dryly, and they left for breakfast at a run.

They nearly collided with Hermione Granger as she came out of the Great Hall, nose in a book, but quick thinking avoided any actual injury.

Mal hid a smile as he realised her book was _Quidditch Through the Ages - _Of course, Granger was probably terrified about the prospect of flying lessons. Odd she hadn't made any friends yet though – Mal thought Ravenclaw's were all bookworms. Then again, her habit of being a know-it-all probably didn't help.

But here was food, and Mal's stomach gurgled as he took in the smell of food.

Ignoring Nott droning on about his so-called escapades avoiding Muggle helicopters, Mal dug into to his breakfast.

_Mmmm_. Even on normal days, Hogwarts had amazing meals.

"What's that Gemma?" Harry asked, and Mal looked up from his bowl. The prefect had a copy of the _Daily Prophet, _and she glanced up.

"The paper?"

"The story."

"Oh this? She folded the page over, so Mal and Harry could see the article: 'GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST._ "_Last weeks paper, haven't had a chance to read it yet. Crazy though, isn't it?"

"Can I have a look at the article?" Harry asked and Gemma's eyebrows raised.

"I suppose, but _why?_"

"He's actually the thief, he's making sure no one suspects him." Mal grinned, and the prefect rolled her eyes.

"Fine, I want it back when you're done. Here."

Gemma thrust the paper at them, and they read it eagerly.

GRINGOTTS BREAK IN LATEST

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on the 31__st__ of _

_July, widely believed to be the work of dark wizards or witches_

_unknown._

_Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. _

_The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied _

_the same day._

_'But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your _

_nose out if you know what's good for you,' said a Gringotts_

_spokesgoblin this afternoon._

"That's my birthday! It might have happened while we were there!" Harry said, eye huge behind his glasses, and Mal raised his eyebrows.

"Cool."

"That's weird right?"

"Maybe – I remember everyone was really worried it was one of You-Know-Who's supporters." Mal grabbed the paper, and headed over to the Gryffindor table, ignoring Gemma's indignant 'Hey, bring that back, Malfoy!'

Ignoring the stony looks some of the older Gryffindors gave him Mal sat down between Neville and Ron, spreading the paper between them.

"Mal!" Ron cried indignantly, and the blond boy rustled the paper at him.

"Just read this, will you?"  
>"I don't get it." Neville said, frowning.<p>

"It was the day I was there – and Hagrid said he was there on 'important Hogwarts business'! What if what the thief was trying to steal the thing Hagrid was there to get?"

"Only way to find out is to ask him, I suppose." Mal said, thoughtfully and Harry grimaced.

"He hasn't spoken to me since I got sorted."

"Oh he's one of those idiots, is he?" Mal muttered darkly, shooting a look at Ron, who blushed.

"Oh come off it Mal, I said I was sorry."  
>"I know. Just fun to watch you squirm." said Mal, cheerily. "Anyway, we'd better get off before McGonagall gives us detention for being late. See you later!"<p>

They ran off to Transfiguration, thankfully getting to the door within seconds of the professor herself, but Mal could barely concentrate. Transfiguration wasn't his best subject on a good day, but today he was too focussed on what waited for them in the afternoon.

Flying lessons. He'd heard horror stories, from both Tonks and the older Weasley siblings, about brooms that vibrated if you flew too high, or wouldn't turn properly, but he didn't care – it would be annoying if you compared them to his Comet, it was true, but a whole afternoon actually _flying_ instead of cooped up in a classroom was definitely something to look forward to.

So at twenty past three that afternoon, Mal, Harry and the rest of Slytherin hurried down into the grounds for their first flying lesson. They had to wait for Madam Hooch and the Gryffindors, and Mal jumped up and down to keep warm in the bitter wind. As he did, noticed Harry looking rather gloomy.

"What's up?" Mal asked.

"I've never flown before – what if I end up looking like an idiot in front of the Gryffindors? Half of them think I'm some kind of dark wizard as it is."

"So if you look like an idiot maybe they'll see you're actually a normal kid?" Mal suggested.

"Harry, normal?" Ron asked, grinning, and Mal turned to see he and Neville had arrived, the other Gryffindors trailing behind.

"Prat – what took you so long, it's freezing!"

"Madam Hooch isn't here yet." Neville pointed out reasonably, and Mal stuck out his tongue.

"Smart arse. You ready to fly, then?"  
>"Dunno. You know me." Neville shrugged, and Mal and Ron laughed.<p>

"I don't." said Harry, curiously.

"Right! Sorry Harry. Nev's gran wouldn't let him near a broom for years."

"Can't blame her really." said Neville, round face a little embarrassed. "I mean, I have enough accidents on the ground, so..." He trailed off and Mal took over.

"Then Tonks pointed out that she's even clumsier than Neville and she's actually halfway decent on a broom – because she started young. I mean it's not like she can _help_ the clumsy, so Mrs Longbottom gave up."

"And Nev's gran is _scary_." Ron added.

"She's not that bad." Neville protested, bringing a glass orb filled with smoke from his pocket. "She sent me this, this morning. It's a Remembrall –the smoke glows red if you've forgotten something."  
>"Yeah, except it doesn't tell you <em>what<em> you've forgotten." Ron pointed out, and Neville shrugged again, good-naturedly.

As the rest of the Gryffindors joined them, Ron and Neville moved away, giving them an apologetic look. The rest of the Gryffindors had just about accepted their inter-house friendship, but things got awkward if they were actually confronted with it.

Even at lunch, Mal had overheard some of the older Gryffindors giving Ron and Neville stick for 'consorting with the enemy'.

_Idiots._

As for Slytherin, most of their house mates seemed semi-convinced that Mal and Harry were either blackmailing their Gryffindor friends, or trying to get them to spy for Slytherin.

Sometimes, the twisted minds of his house mates disturbed Mal. The rest of the time, he was almost glad at how blind it made them.

He grinned as Madam Hooch finally showed up, her yellow eyes and short grey hair making her look rather like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

"She says after being late." Blaise muttered on the other side of Mal and he snorted. His good humour didn't extend to the broom though; it had seen decidedly better days. Still it looked as though Slytherin had got the better brooms. Or at least, the ones that didn't look like they'd gone five rounds with a rogue Bludger.

"Stick out your right hand over you broom, and say up!"

"UP!" everyone shouted. Mal smirked as his broom shot into his hand, as did Harry's but barely any of the others had. Ron's had, after some hesitation, but Neville's had only given a feeble little jolt upwards. Sophie's on the other hand had just rolled over.

Brooms were funny things though, and they could usually tell if someone _really _wanted to use them. Probably half of the problems were due to fear or sheer distrust of the school brooms.

Mal fidgeted in line as Madam Hooch went over mounting their brooms, and correcting their grip. He _knew_ all this already, he just wanted to actually get in the air!

He wasn't feeling half as confident a minute later, when Madam Hooch told him he'd been holding his broom wrong for years.

"Oh, shut up." he muttered irritably, to Harry and Blaise, who were both trying to suppress sniggers. At least it had cheered Sophie up a little, and she looked less as if would throw up the second she got on a broom.

_Finally, _the flying mistress seemed satisfied.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," she said. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle – three, two, one!" a shrill blast punctured the air, and they rose up, some with easy confidence, others with a wobble. Neville had hesitated for a minute, but he was up in the air with everyone else in seconds.

"And down!" Madam Hooch called.

Mal groaned. This was going to be a _long_ lesson.

Harry felt a grin growing as Madam Hooch finally let them into the air proper – they still weren't allowed higher than the first floor, but he was actually flying. A little niggling part of him was urging him to fly higher, fly faster, but he steadfastly ignored it. By the look on Mal's face, he was having the same problem.

Harry gasped as he saw Nott and Crabbe barrel towards Neville, forcing him upwards to avoid a crash. He must have turned too sharply, for as Harry watched, he slipped from the broom, face parchment wide as he saw the ground coming up to meet him. Something glittered as it fell from Neville's pocket, and without thinking, Harry hurtled after it, catching it barely a foot from the ground. Harry dismounted in time to see Neville hit the ground with a _thud _and a sickening crack.

Harry stood, transfixed by the sight of his friend's unmoving body, barely aware of the chaos around him.

"Everyone down on the ground now!" Madam Hooch's panicked cry was followed by three bursts on her whistle. As he saw Neville move, Harry gradually became aware of his surroundings again, and looked to see what he had saved.

In his hand lay Neville's Remembrall. He crossed the grass, to where his friend was starting sit up, Madam Hooch at his side, her face as pale as his.

"Broken wrist." Harry heard her murmur. "Come on, up you get, you'll be all right." She turned to the class, eyes flashing angrily. "Who saw what happened.

"Nott and Crabbe charged him." Ron said, through gritted teeth, fists clenched.

"No I didn't!"

"Yes, you did." Mal's voice was cold, but Harry had a feeling he was seething behind his outward expression. Nott went to protest again, but Madam Hooch cut him off.

"Enough! 50 points each and two months of detention for both of you, for endangering another students life! And when Dumbledore hears of this, you'll be lucky if you don't get expelled! Never have I seen such blatant _idiocy _and maliciousness in a first year!"

There was an indignant hiss from the Slytherins, but the look in Madam Hooch's eye prevented any further protest. "And Mr Potter!" Harry jumped, and felt a creeping blush as twenty pairs of eyes focused on him. "Nice catch. I haven't seen such a neat dive since your father. What was you risked your neck to catch, by the way?" Dumbly, Harry held out the Remembrall, and Madam Hooch pocketed it. "Now, before I get Mr Longbottom to the hospital wing, a few words. None of you are to move until I get back! You leave those brooms where they or you'll be out of here as soon as you can say 'Quidditch'. Oh, and Nott, Crabbe, with me."

She left, arm around Neville, trailing a murderous looking Nott and Crabbe. There was a moment of stunned silence, before someone started to clap. Harry blushed again, as it swelled into full fledged applause. Mal and Ron were immediately at his side, both grinning, babbling about 'how _cool!_' that had been.

"I just didn't want Neville's thing to get broken."

"So modest, Mr Potter," Mal drawled, clapping him on the back. "Still, she could have given you points or something, it'll take _forever_ to get them back now."

"Harry was technically disobeying her." Blaise pointed out, coming over to join them. Ron gave him a wary look, but said nothing. "She couldn't have rewarded him for that."  
>Mal grunted in what Harry assumed was a yes, but he still looked half furious.<p>

"So what did you think Harry?" Ron eventually said, after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"Wicked! I wish we could go again..." he cast a longing look towards the brooms.

"Don't even think about it Harry. I'm not so sure Hooch was joking, you know." Blaise warned him, through amusement crinkled the edges of his eyes. Harry grimaced, but realised that Blaise had a point.

All the same it _had_ been amazing – the broom had responded with barely a hitch, and it had felt so e_asy_ – the first thing at Hogwarts that had felt _right_ without a seconds hesitation.

After Madam Hooch came back, they had about 15 minutes more in the air. It felt painfully slow to Harry, but when he came back down, the teacher pulled him aside. He froze.

"I'd just like to say, Mr Potter, that while first-years aren't allowed brooms, there isn't any rule that states they're not allowed to try out for the team. The Slytherin captain's a fifth-year called Marcus Flint. Normally I wouldn't condone such rule bending, but it would be shame for someone who flies the way you do not to get a chance to really hone their skills. Personally I'd say you were a born Seeker." Suddenly, Madam Hooch didn't look any where near as fierce.

"Uh yeah." Harry said, dazed. "I mean, it looks the most like me."

"Now, get on with you, Mr Potter. Madam Hooch grinned. "and you didn't hear any of this from me."

Harry walked away a little unsteadily, breaking into a run to catch up with Ron and Mal, who were trailing at the back of the two groups.

"What was all that about?" Mal asked, curiously.

Harry told them.  
>"You're <em>joking<em>." Ron looked as if he didn't know whether to be jealous or impressed.

"You jammy bastard." Mal shook his head. "If it had been me, she'd probably have given me detention - clearly you're still a golden boy to _some_ people."  
>"What are you on about?" Ron asked, frowning in confusion.<br>"He's being a prat."

"Not my fault if it's the truth." retorted Mal, before taking pity on Ron. "In Slytherin, people's opinions are rather divided on whether Harry is in fact a dark wizard or just a kid with a big reputation. Not many fans of the 'Boy-Who-Lived' in the house of silver or green"

Harry rolled his eyes, both at Mal's words and his pompous tone.

"You're a right spanner sometimes, Mal."

"I try. Anyway, see you later Ron, before we get accused of corrupting you again."

"That lot can go piss up a tree." Ron grumbled, and Harry laughed. All the same, Mal had a point, and now they'd got to the castle, members of both houses were giving them unfriendly looks. Harry frowned. What did they care if he and Mal wanted to be friends with Ron?

_I wish there was somewhere we could just hang out without being _judged_ all the time. _Harry thought, glumly.

Nott and Crabbe still hadn't shown up after dinner, and rumours were already floating through the Slytherin common room. They had been expelled, their wands snapped and they were already on the way home – and that was one of the tamest rumours. Harry had found Flint the second they had got in, and the fifth-year – who looked, in Harry's opinion, rather like a troll – he'd read the Hobbit in primary school. Flint had looked rather amused that Harry thought he was good enough, but said Harry could come along to try-out after he told him what Madam Hooch had said.

Now, he, Mal, Blaise and Sophie were sat on the floor by the fire, since the upper-years always claimed the armchairs. They were puzzling over their Potions homework for the next day when Nott stormed in, Crabbe looming behind him.

"Suppose you think you're clever do you, Malfoy?" Nott snarled.

"Yes actually."

"Bet you're not half as clever without witnesses."

"What's that supposed to mean? Are you trying to get me _alone_, Nott? Mal raised his eyebrows smirking. "If it's all the same to you, I'll pass, thanks."

"You've got no honour, Malfoy – just like your dear _daddy." _Nott sneered as Mal stiffened.

"Oh, no you don't Nott. Wizards duel. Tonight, at midnight in the trophy room."

A murmur rippled through the common room.

"What's going on?" Harry whispered to Blaise.

"You don't insult a purebloods honour – it's almost the worst insult you can give. Even if Mal's technically a blood-traitor."

"And a wizard's duel?"  
>"Wands only – and a way for Mal to beat an apology out of Nott – if he goes through with it."<br>Nott seemed to have gone purple.

"What's the matter, _Theodore?_ Too chicken?" Mal taunted and Harry felt uncomfortable. He'd never seen his friend like this.

"Of course not. I'll be there. Crabbe's my second, who's yours?"

Mal flicked his gaze over to Harry and Blaise, as if sizing them up.

"Zabini – if he'll accept."

Blaise gave a curt nod as Harry looked on in bewilderment.

As Nott stormed off, Mal gave a huge shuddering breath, slumping against the back of an armchair.

"You're _not_ serious, are you Mal?" Blaise said, the second Nott and Crabbe were out of earshot.

"He insulted my honour, Blaise. Besides you said you'd be my second, didn't you?"

"What's a second?"

"They're there to take over if you die," Blaise said, still glowering at Mal, and Harry blanched.

"But usually that only happens if the people in the duel are any good," Sophie spoke up for the first time. "What's the most you and Nott are gonna do, throw sparks at each other? There are easier ways of getting revenge you know."

Mal didn't reply, but looked decidedly mulish.

Harry couldn't quite believe that Mal had been so impulsive, but then he'd never seen him look like that, either, all cold fury and hard edges. It had been almost scary.

Midnight came, and Harry woke to someone shaking him awake. The rough shape of Mal loomed over him, a pale shape in the gloom. Harry fumbled for his glasses, squinting as the room came into focus.

"Whazzit?" he asked, still half asleep.

"Time for my duel, remember? Blaise is waking Nott and Crabbe."  
>"You're really doing this? Wait, why d'you need me?"<p>

"We don't really, but I thought you'd want to watch - or at least keep a look out."  
>Harry frowned, but rolled his eyes at Mal's beseeching look.<p>

"Fine. But only because I've never seen one."

They left the common room at intervals, making Nott and Crabbe go first.

"Should we have got Sophie?" Harry wondered quietly as they slipped through deserted corridors. Jeez, Hogwarts was creepy at night.

"Not if you like living." muttered Blaise darkly, and Harry muffled a snort. He kept expecting to run into the caretaker, Filch, or his demon cat Mrs Norris, but so far they'd been lucky. They snuck up to the third floor and entered the trophy room cautiously, in case Nott decided to ambush them.

The crystal trophy cases and their contents glimmered in the moonlight, but the room was empty.

"Those _bastards_!" Mal whispered fiercely. "They must have doubled back before we could get here."

"I told you this was a bad idea." Blaise started, but shut his mouth after Mal shot him an evil glare. Harry was beginning to wish he'd just stayed in bed, when a noise in the next room made them freeze.

"Sniff around my sweet, I know I heard something."

"It's Filch!" Harry mouthed, and the three of them looked at each other in sheer panic.

"This way." Blaise breathed, and they sidled into the next room, missing Filch's entry by a whisker. They headed straight out again, only catching a snatch of Filch's muttering

"They're in here somewhere..."

"This way!" Harry gestured frantically, and they snuck down a gallery full of suits of armour. They hurtled down round corridor, without a clue of where they where, Harry sure Filch must be gaining on them. They tore through a tapestry and into a secret passageway which brought them out near the Charms classroom.

"Wait which way now?" asked Harry, the directions back to the common room escaping his head in the adrenalin rush.

"This way." Blaise said, but he didn't look as confident as he sounded. There was a door at the end of the corridor which looked vaguely familiar, but when they got there it was locked. Harry froze as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and groaned inwardly.

"Peeves!" he hissed, and in one fluid wand movement, Mal had the door open and they were safe on the other side. Harry slammed the door shut, before peering through the keyhole to check if the coast was clear.

"I think we're safe," he said, after a minute.

"That's nice Harry." Mal replied, voice an octave higher than normal.

Harry turned round to see just _why_ the door had been locked. A monstrous dog, an enormous thing who's _three_ heads brushed the top of the ceiling was staring right at them, yellow fangs dripping with saliva.

"This is the forbidden corridor, isn't it." Blaise said, face looking almost green. Harry and Mal nodded dumbly, as taken by surprise as the monster presumably was. But as they watched, thundering growls rumbled up in its chest.

Mal swore, and Harry scrabbled to open the door before the hell-hound could eat them – between a horribly gory death and Filch or Peeves, he'd take the option that didn't end up with him as kibble.

Them slammed the door shut again, wincing at the crash, and Mal and Blaise replaced the locking charm. They retraced their steps back to the Charms classroom, and this time, took the right corridor.

They arrived back at the common room panting, having run the whole way, trying to put as much distance between them and the _thing _as possible.

They collapsed forward as the wall slid forward, stumbling into the armchairs nearest.

"What the hell do they think they're doing keeping that _thing_ locked up in school with a charm a bloody eleven year old could open?" Mal demanded, the second he could speak, and Harry nodded, eyes still like saucers.

"Dumbledore needs his head checking." Blaise said darkly. "Who the hell uses a _Cerberus_ as a guard dog?"

"Guard dog? Mal and Harry chorused in confusion.

"Didn't you see? It was standing on a trapdoor."

"I was more focused on _my imminent death_, actually Blaise!" Mal retorted, voice raising in pitch

"And the heads..." Harry added, helpfully.

"All the same, I'm Owling mother to complain first thing. Nothing can be important enough to put a monster in a school!" Blaise said as he stood up, stretching.

"And tell her what? You'll get us all in trouble."  
>"Who's idea was a wizard's duel in the first place Mal?"<br>Mal's mouth opened and closed, rather like a fish, Harry thought, yawning hugely. The three of them sat there, staring into the embers of the fire.

What seemed like minutes later, Harry was shaken roughly awake, to Sophie looking at him in disapproval.

"Sophie? What time is it?"

"Just past two. I was going to wait up for you, but I fell asleep. You lot need to get to bed, or Farley'll have you're heads for being caught out past past curfew."  
>"Thanks, Soph." Harry said gratefully, and he could see the girl was trying not to smile.<p>

"You're welcome – now do you want to wake these two idiots that dragged you out, or leave them to get caught?"

Harry laughed, before moving to shake Mal awake. As he did, he couldn't help wonder just _what_ the dog had been guarding, and if it had anything to do with the mysterious break in at Gringotts.

* * *

><p><strong>AN Ugggghhhhhhhhhhh. Sorry. For many reasons, actually, the unintentional hiatus being one of them. I rather naively assumed that I could go straight back to Another Life after NaNoWriMo, but apparently, writing nothing but one story for a month, give or take, makes going back to writing something else _really hard._ Also, life got in the way - I don;t know if I've mentioned this, but I'm actually a third year abroad student currently, and so I'm currently living in France. Most of the time its great, but I've had a few bad day recently, as we grow closer to Christmas. Still, I'm sure you don't want to hear my problems, but I hope you enjoyed this chapter. And that the next is rather sooner to be updated. Review love is always appreciated ;) **

**PLU, Tolrais x**


	8. Halloween

**A/N Standard disclaimers apply ;)**

* * *

><p>Of course, the day after, when the terror had faded, Harry decided he'd quite enjoyed his adventure, and would be perfectly happy to have another. Mal too, seemed interested, though probably more at the prospect of having an insane story to tell than any actual life or death situations. Blaise on the other hand, told them in no uncertain terms that they were both completely barmy, and in future, they could leave him out of any mad adventures, thank you. Sophie wasn't sure whether to find the whole thing amusing or to give them the cold shoulder for being so stupid.<p>

They found Ron and Neville after lunch, both the first year Slytherins and Gryffindors having Friday afternoons off, and found themselves a quiet overlooked corner of the library in which they could spin their tale.

Ron seemed suitably impressed – and quite disgruntled that they'd left him out of it, where Neville was grateful they had. Like Blaise, the round-faced boy preferred a quiet life.

"So then we got back and Blaise says, 'Who the hell uses a _Cerberus_ as a guard dog?', I didn't even realise there was a trapdoor!" Mal finished, waving his hands in excitement.

"Cool! What d'you reckon it could be?" asked Ron, eyes wide.

"I think it's to do with whatever Hagrid took from Gringotts they day we were there." Harry said, suddenly.

"What did it look like?" asked Neville, curiously. Harry frowned.

"It wasn't very big..." he shaped his hands to the size he remembered. "And it was wrapped in brown paper."

"I bet it's a really valuable magic artefact." said Mal, eyes alight with excitement.

"Or really -" Ron paused as Hermione Granger walked past, her eyes narrowing as she caught the four of them – though whether it was because she'd overheard their conversation, or just because they were talking in the library, Harry couldn't tell. "Or really dangerous." Ron repeated more quietly.

"We need to find a better meeting place." Mal muttered, and Harry, Ron and Neville nodded in agreement.

"I'll ask the twins later. So how big was the dog again?"

They went over the story again, Harry stopping Mal from embellishing _too_ much, and they carried on theorising about just what it could be. Neville suggested some form of plant seed, but the others scoffed at the idea. All they knew was that it was small and important, to be guarded the way it was.

That Saturday, Harry woke early and for a second he couldn't place the mix of anticipation and nervousness he was feeling. Then it hit him – the Slytherin Quidditch team where having try-outs today. He couldn't go back to sleep, so instead he woke up Mal. As usual, he was ridiculously grumpy, but his outlook changed when Harry said the magic word 'Quidditch'. Not that it lasted long.

"Harry, try-outs aren't for another three hours," Mal complained.

"I know, but I want to get some proper practice in." Harry did his best to look beseeching and it must have worked, because Mal groaned, and got out of bed, wincing as his feet touched the cold stone floor.

They ate breakfast in almost complete solitude; apart from a few studious Ravenclaws putting in extra homework hours they were the only people in the Great Hall. They slipped outside quietly, a thin layer of fog blanketing the grounds and lake, the grass still slick with dew as the first rays of sun peeked over the hills.

"So just to check, a goal is worth ten points?" Harry asked as they kicked off, having taken the best brooms from the shed. Mal nodded, circling lazily higher

"And the Snitch is worth 150, and if you catch it it ends the game."

"So if I do get Seeker, that'll be my job?"

"Yep."

"Has there ever been a match where one team win but the other get the Snitch?"

Mal raised his eyebrows.

"Probably somewhere – but there'd have to be a _massive_ points difference, or team that keeps getting caught fouling."

Harry nodded, then lapsed into silence, enjoying the sensation of wind through his hair. He felt like he _belonged_ on a broom – even the old clapper he was flying responded easily to his touch. He grinned, deciding to dive like he had in his first flying lesson, and laughed as he heard Mal give a startled yelp.

"Merlin's pants, Potter you gave me a heart attack!" Mal shouted. Harry laughed again, cruising back up to where Mal was gliding.

"Sorry." but he couldn't help but grin, and Mal rolled his eyes.

"Sure you are. Hey, fancy a race?" he asked, but before Harry had a chance to reply, Mal was off, hurtling down the pitch. Harry gained on him easily, and Mal glanced over his shoulder in irritation, and peeled off, aiming for the stands. Harry's heart skipped a beat as he thought his fried was going to crash then narrowed his yes as he saw him weave through the stands, currently bare of any house colours. Briefly questioning his sanity, Harry followed and soon they were neck and neck, weaving through the obstacle course of struts and planks.

"HEY!"

They screeched to a halt as they saw a figure in green Quidditch robes sprint on to the pitch, broom in hand. Guiltily, Mal and Harry landed, embarrassed at having been caught.

"What the hell are you doing?" Flint demanded.

"We're here for try-outs?"

Flint shot Harry an unimpressed look.

"You're early. And I said you could try out Potter, not all your little friends."

"Let me try, at least?"

"Fine, but I'm not promising either of you anything." said Flint, but all the same there was a glimmer of respect in his eye. Harry and Mal killed time until try-outs started in earnest by throwing a Quaffle between them, as Flint got things set up. As a trickle of Slytherins came down from the castle, they dismounted and sat in the stands, trying not to draw any more attention to themselves – in case 'you are chosen and the other teams send their spies' according to Flint.

Flint really wasn't much of a speaker, Harry decided, watching the burly upper year give a few curt instructions to the hopefuls, before telling them to start flying. He and Mal were chosen as part of a trio of would-be Chasers, but even though he'd been practising with a Quaffle, it didn't feel natural to Harry. When Flint called them down, there was an unusually thoughtful look in his eye, and Harry couldn't help but feel his stomach drop. He barely paid attention to the Keeper and Beater try-outs. Flint obviously wasn't going to pick him, why else would he have tried him out as a Chaser when he wanted to be a Seeker?

"Potter, you're up after Higgs."

"Sorry?"

Flint rolled his eyes. You, Higgs, Selwyn, Malfoy and Carrow all said you were interested in the Seeker's position, I want to see what you've got. Harry nodded hurriedly feeling a bush creep over his face as the older boys sniggered.

Flint had them each diving to catch little balls, then set them on a Snitch. Carrow was awful, dropping most of the balls, and casting about for fifteen minutes before Flint called him off of the pitch in disgust. Higgs was better, and he heard one of the others mention he'd been on the team before, as a reserve. Mal was probably as good as Higgs, but his speed didn't quite make up for the borrowed broom and his lack of reach. He came of the broom looking disappointed, but resigned.

Then it was Harry's turn, and he felt butterflies mount in his stomach as he mounted his borrowed broom. He caught each ball easily, letting some drop a little further than he needed to practice his diving – rapidly becoming his favourite move. But he hadn't even been near a Snitch before he heard a call of

"All right Potter, I've seen enough."

"What's wrong, am I not good enough?" he asked miserably.

"Not good enough? Potter, you could be better than that blood-traitor Weasley – and he could have played for England, worse luck for us. If you can get hold of a decent broom you're on the team. Higgs, you're reserve"

Higgs, Carrow and Selwyn gave him a filthy look, but Harry didn't care.

"The rest of the team, Montague, you're staying, Pucey you're the other, Beaters are Carrow and Rowle, and Bletchley you're Keeper. Oh, and Malfoy?"

Mal looked up, unable to completely hide his excitement.

"Reserve Chaser. You wanted to be a Seeker, I know, but if you come to training this year you should make the team as a damn good Chaser next year."

"I can do that," Mal grinned, suddenly perking up.

"Well done everyone, oh and Potter, if you get that broom, you'll be the youngest Seeker in a century."

"You jammy gits." Sophie looked enviously at the two youngest members of the Slytherin Quidditch team, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I didn't think you liked Quidditch that much?" Harry asked, a little confused.

"I think it's the audacity that our dear Miss Roper is laughing at" Blaise chipped in, amused. They were at lunch, try-outs having gone on longer than they'd thought, and Harry was ravenous.

"It's not set in stone though." Mal reminded them, emphasising his point with a wave of his fork. "He's got to get a broom yet."

"Ask Professor Snape?"

Harry snorted, then spluttered as his pumpkin juice went up his nose.

"No good." he wheezed once he could breath again. "Snape hates me remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Sophie frowned, disgruntled, and the four of them lapsed into thought.

Harry wondered for a minute whether they should ask Ron and Neville for ideas – after all, they usual had completely different opinions to those of his Slytherin friends, but when he brought it up, both Blaise and Mal winced dramatically.

"What?"

"You think asking Gryffindors to help the _Slytherin _Quidditch team is going to go down well, Harry?" Mal asked, an amused smirk on his face. Harry opened his mouth, then shut it again.

"Oh, yeah."

Sophie snorted, then froze, her eyes widening. Harry turned – to be greeted by the hooked nose and sallow skin of his Head of House.

"Mr Potter, if I might have a word?"

Briefly wondering whether they'd been seen leaving the third floor the other night, he followed Professor Snape out of the Great Hall, heart in his mouth.

Snape stopped abruptly, his robes billowing.

"I understand congratulations are in order." Snape bit out, looking as though it was physically painful for him to say.

"Sir?"

"You are the new Slytherin Seeker, are you not?"

"Oh, yes! Well, if I can get a decent broom."

Snape's black eyes glittered and Harry thought this must be what a fly feels like to be trapped in a spider-web.

"Well I can't help you there, Potter. The school buying a broom for you would be seen as being complete and utter favouritism. And completely against school rules." Snape spoke slowly, as if there was a particular significance to his words. Harry frowned, wondering if his head of house had actually gone mad. "That is all, Potter. Oh and apply yourself better in future – your last piece of homework was adequate, at best."

And with that Snape swept off, leaving a very confused Harry in his wake.

"What was all that about?" Mal asked curiously, and Harry turned to see his Slytherin friends looking as confused as he felt.

"You were listening?"

"We had to make sure Snape didn't poison you Harry." Sophie said, her attempt at an angelic look not even remotely convincing.

"Ha ha. But what did he mean? He didn't tell me anything I didn't already know." said Harry, frustrated.

"He said the school couldn't buy a broom for you. What if it was donated?"

"Blaise?" Mal looked at the darker boy, a slow smile spreading across both their faces.

"An anonymous donation, you mean?"

"I still probably couldn't afford a decent broom." Harry said, miserably.

"I think you could Harry – the Potters were always rich, even during the war." Blaise told him. "But anyway that would be too obvious."

"You think we could get the rest of the house to chip in?" Mal asked, grinning. They started heading back to the common room, planning as they went.

"I doubt it." Blaise said, raising an eyebrow. "But the Quidditch team, probably. And if not, how much is the new Nimbus going for?"

"200 Galleons."

"_How_ much?" Sophie stared at them in disbelief, drawing to a halt outside the common room.

"Relax Roper, it's not that bad." Blaise said, amused.

They flopped onto one of the empty sofas, Sophie still muttering about '200 galleons for a lousy broomstick?'

"The professionals use them, Sophie." Mal said, a look of longing on his face. "I'd love a Nimbus. If I was on the team..."

"You're not jealous, are you Mal?" Harry asked, worried.

"Only stupidly." He laughed at the look on Harry's face. "But there's nothing I can do about it. Besides, you were better than me at try outs, it's only fair."

"Hufflepuff." Blaise muttered, and Mal rolled his eyes.

"And? Ambition and hard-work do tend to go together if you want to be successful, Blaise."

"God, you sound like that Granger girl."

Blaise and Mal lapsed into bickering, but Harry wasn't listening, as he'd just seen Flint come through the portrait hole. He approached the other boy, detailing his plan. Flint grinned.

"Nice, Potter."

So Harry ordered a Nimbus 2000, with the help of his friends – and some money from the rest of the team. He'd promised to pay it back, but as Adrian Pucey had pointed out, it wouldn't be really anonymous then. 'You just better win us every match, Potter.' He'd said, and Harry had given him a sheepish grin.

And so a few days later, a small parliament of owls flew in over the breakfast table, depositing a long thin parcel in front on Harry.

"What's that Potter?" Gemma Fawley asked.

"There's a note here." Adrian Pucey chipped in. "Since the package isn't addressed to anyone, shall I read it?"

Mal lunged forward, grabbing it out of Pucey's hand. Adrian gave the younger boy a dirty look and Mal smiled beatifically.

"I just thought if the parcel landed mostly in front of Harry he should read it."

Adrian tried to hold the disapproving look, but he knew as well as Mal what was in the package in front of Harry.

"Fine. But read it nice and loud, Potter."

Harry did, the biggest trouble he had was keeping a straight face as he did.

"It has come to our attention that the new Slytherin Seeker is in need of a broom. As concerned Quidditch fans, we have decided to anonymously donate this Nimbus 2000 for use by the Slytherin Seeker, whoever that may be. Congratulations to the team."

There was a moment of stunned silence, before half of Slytherin burst into uncharacteristic hysterical laughter.

"We should get out of here before we cause an uproar." Mal muttered, and Harry nodded. Signalling to Ron and Harry at the Gryffindor table, they snuck out of the hall, hiding behind the tapestry of the nearest concealed passageway.

"What was all that about?" Ron asked curiously. Harry grinned, ripping the packaging off of the parcel. Inside, the sleek new handle of Harry's Nimbus gleamed, and Ron gave a low whistle.

"Now I get why you were being all mysterious. Nice – can I ride it?"

"Um." Harry wanted to say yes, but if he did let Ron have a go on his new broom the news that he was Slytherin's new Seeker would be out in no time, and Flint wanted to keep him as a secret.

"Maybe after the first match, right, Harry?" Mal said, and Harry gave him a thankful glance.

"What do you think Neville?" Harry asked, his grin returning.

"Really cool." Neville gave an impressed look, but before h could say more, the tapestry was ripped open, and a familiar face framed by bushy hair scowled at them disapprovingly.

"First years aren't allowed brooms, you know." Hermione Granger sniffed.

"It says we're not allowed to _own_ them."

"And Harry doesn't _own_ it." Mal chipped in, smirking.

"No, it was a mysterious donation, Hermione, for use by the Slytherin Seeker." Harry couldn't help but add, face split by an enormous grin.

"_You're_ the Slytherin Seeker? But you're only a first year!" Harry winced as Hermione's voice raised in a screech.

"Yep, youngest in a century." Mal and Harry were grinning like Cheshire cats, and Ron was trying not to snigger. Neville gave Hermione an apologetic smile, but she gave a disgusted scoff and stormed off, hair bristling and shoulders hunched.

The four of them looked at each other, before bursting into laughter.

* * *

><p>Between Quidditch practice, which Mal had been attending faithfully, even without being a member of the main team, and lessons, which were becoming more and more interesting now they'd managed the basics, Halloween was upon them in no time.<p>

It wasn't easy, balancing everything, especially with friends in Gryffindor. Especially after Ron had accidentally let slip that Harry and Mal were part of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Mal was going to have to _do_ something about the Weasley twins, as ever since they'd found that little nugget of information, they had taken to ambushing him or Harry, trying to alternately bribe or blackmail them into spying on their own team.

Hagrid had been growing pumpkins especially for Halloween, and they were at least half the size of Hagrid's house. The gamekeeper had warmed up to the idea of Harry in Slytherin at least, and now greeted them with a friendly wave and smile when they returned to the castle after Herbology.

And it was to Herbology that they were headed now, where there was a slight scuffle as everyone tried to avoid being paired with Hermione Granger. Unfortunately for Sophie, she was a touch to slow to avoid the pairing.

"Now, everyone we'll be working on repotting some Willow saplings today. Anyone know what Willow is used for?"

Mal edged back as Hermione Granger's hand shot up. A few other hands followed, but Professor Sprout seemed so bemused by Hermione's eagerness, that she let her answer, slightly warily.

"Miss Granger?"

"The bark of the white willow has been used in pain relief for 2,000 years in both Muggle and Magical societies."

"Very good, Miss Granger, 10 points to Ravenclaw." Professor Sprout said, smiling faintly at the huge beam on Hermione's face. "Now this shouldn't be too tricky, so you should have plenty of time to get cleaned up before the feast tonight."

The professor turned away before she could notice the mutinous stares levelled at Hermione from the fellow Ravenclaws. But Professor Sprout, did however, notice that the genius Ravenclaw had forgotten her protective gloves, taking back the points she'd earned. Mal thought her eyes looked oddly bright after the docking, especially as she half tore her bag apart to try and find them.

"I am _so_ glad Granger's not in Slytherin." Sophie muttered as snuck away from Hermione Granger for a moment, claiming they needed more fertilizer. Mal hid a smile, Hermione's domineering personality the reason no one wanted to work with her.

"As if she'd last five minutes in Slytherin." Blaise said, voice full of dry amusement.

"Yeah but what'd get her first, her blood-status or her personality?"

"Sophie!" Mal said, trying not to laugh. "She can't be _that_ bad."

"Are you talking about Hermione Granger?" A dark haired Ravenclaw interrupted and they looked up guiltily. "Don't worry, I won't tell. I'm Michael Corner, by the way."

"So is she really that bad?" Sophie demanded bluntly, and Michael winced.

"Sometimes."

They broke off as they caught Hermione looking at them disapprovingly and Sophie slunk back to her shared table, shooting Hermione a dark look. Michael's interruption acted as an icebreaker, and he seemed to bear them no ill will for the colour of their robes.

"You're not scared of the big bad Slytherins?" Harry asked, a dark glint in his eye.

"I think it's a flawed concept, actually - there have to be some errors in Sorting. Not to mention I doubt everyone stays true to the same ideals all through their adolescence."

Mal's respect for Michael increased suddenly, and they spent the rest of the lesson swapping funny stories about their classes, receiving alternately pleading and murderous looks from Sophie, a prisoner under Hermione Granger's stony gaze.

Mal hid a smile at whoop that Sophie let out when Professor Sprout said they could leave early, oblivious to the disgusted sniff of her partner. She barrelled towards them as they left the greenhouse, sighing in melodramatic relief.

"Ugh, I thought that lesson would never end. I think Granger heard me complaining, she was a slave driver the rest of that lesson."

"Or she was trying to make up for her points loss." Blaise pointed out.

"It's weird though, isn't it?" Harry asked as they headed back up to the castle. "Hermione doesn't seem like the sort of person who'd just forget something."

"Actually...I think Mandy hid them" Michael admitted guiltily, "It's what the Ravenclaw girls do if they don't like someone."

"Serves her right. I'm not surprised nobody likes her." Sophie muttered, staggering back as Hermione brushed past.

Mal felt a sinking feeling as he glimpsed her face, bottom lip trembling and eyes sparkling with as yet unshed tears.

"I think she heard you." Harry said quietly beside Mal, his shoulders hunching in a little. Not surprising, Harry hated people picking on someone for being different much to the amusement of some of the Slytherin upper years.

_Though with a family like his, it's exactly surprising..._

"So? Has she even got any friends?"

"Ouch, remind me not to get on your bad side!" Michael said, laughing in shock at her blunt question.

"Ah Michael, you're misinformed, our dear Sophie only has a bad side."

"Bugger off, Blaise."

Blaise smiled serenely, even after Sophie shoved him, rolling her eyes.

* * *

><p>The day of Halloween had been wonderful until Herbology, Harry thought, but now the food tasted bitter with guilt, and he couldn't focus on the amazing spectacle that was the Great Hall at Halloween. The nagging at his conscience didn't even make sense – as Blaise and Sophie had pointed out when they saw his general air of gloom, it hadn't even been him who had said anything. Sophie on the other hand, seemed unfazed by making Hermione cry, and for the first time, Harry felt himself unable to understand his friends.<p>

Beside Harry, Mal stiffened as they overheard Pansy's cackle.

"Did you hear? That filthy mudblood Granger was bawling her eyes out in the loo."

"Serves her right. If mudbloods can't cope they shouldn't be here in the first place."

There was a clutter of cutlery, and Harry glanced to his side to see a discomfited looking Sophie, a knife a wand clutched in each hand.

"Leave it, Sophie." Blaise muttered, and she relaxed. Harry caught her eye and she nodded once; the closest thing to an apology she would give.

"She still not over with the rest of Ravenclaw." Mal muttered, glancing at that table for the twentieth time in as many minutes.

Harry was beginning to wonder whether they should go and ask Michael if the rumours Pansy was spreading were true, when suddenly, Professor Quirrel burst into the Hall, the noise sending a shooting pain through Harry's forehead.

"Troll in the dungeon!" Professor Quirrel shouted. "Just thought you ought to know." He collapsed in a dead faint, and the was a split second of silence, followed by an enormous uproar. Only Professor Dumbledore conjuring firecrakers from his wand stopped the bedlam Professor Quirrel's entrance had caused.

"Prefects" Dumbledore called. "lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Gemma jumped up, marshalling the house into movement.

"If the troll's in the dungeons, then why are they sending us back to the dorms?" Sophie asked, disgruntled.

"The Hufflepuffs don't exactly look too happy either." said Blaise dryly, nodding his head towards that table.

They were chivvied out of the Hall before they could protest, but there was an undercurrent of unimpressed muttering throughout Slytherin. Harry glanced back and shared a grimace with Ron and Neville, who looked terrified.

"How did a troll get in anyway?" Harry asked, as they waited in the queue to leave the Great Hall, half of the school stuck in the doorway.

"Considering they're supposed to really stupid? Someone probably let it in."

The four of them shared an uneasy look at the idea. Harry stopped suddenly as a thought occurred to him, an indignant cry coming from behind as he held up the queue.

"What about Hermione?" he asked, eyes wide.

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll." Mal added, face paler than normal.

"So we tell a teacher." Blaise said, rolling his eyes.

"I'm going to look for her." Harry decided. She should at least get told there was a troll roaming the school.

"Are you out of your mind?" Sophie half screeched.

"Maybe, but it was your fault she's not here." Harry gave Sophie and Blaise a mulish look, and they sighed in unison.

"Fine, I won't stop you – but I'm telling Professor Snape where you've gone."

"Give us a head start at least?" Mal piped up and though Blaise and Sophie looked decidedly unhappy at the idea, they promised they would give them at least five minutes before telling a teacher.

Mal lead the way, worming his way through the crowd.

"This isn't the right way, Mal." Harry pointed out, as the yellow and green trimmed robes gave way to blue and red.

"Detour." was all he replied, and Harry frowned, then grinned as he saw a familiar red and sandy blond head.

"What are you two doing here?" Ron asked, his grin bemused.

"D'you know Hermione Granger, in Ravenclaw?" Mal asked.

"Yeah, she always nags at me in Charms. Why?"  
>"She's gone missing and we're going to look for her, do you want to help?" Harry cut in. Mal had too much of a tendency to be enigmatic because he could, and right now, Harry was pretty sure they needed action, not words.<p>

"But there's a troll on the loose!" Neville exclaimed, looking horrified.

"Kind of the point, Nev, she doesn't know. You in or not?"  
>"No way! I'm going back to the Tower."<br>"Suit yourself. Ron?"  
>"Do I want to go help you save Granger? Why?"<p>

"You wanted an adventure." Mal pointed out and Ron looked at him suspiciously.

"Not what I meant, but fine."

* * *

><p>They cut back through the crowd, past a confused gaggle of Hufflepuffs, ducked into a deserted side corridor, and towards the girls toilets. Mal froze as he heard footsteps, and the three of them darted behind a statue. They peered around the edge of the griffin, and Mal frowned.<p>

"What's Professor Snape doing here?" Harry whispered. "Why isn't he with the other teachers?"

Mal could think of at least one reason, but surely their head of house wouldn't...no, it was ridiculous. They slipped out of their hiding place, and Mal felt a sinking sensation in his stomach as he saw that Professor Snape was heading for the third floor.

Ron paused, holding his hand up, and Mal groaned inwardly.

"What_ now?_" he hissed.

"Can you smell something?"

Mal and Harry sniffed, and it was all Mal could do not to retch. A foul smell of old socks and filthy toilets pervaded the air. Mal's eyes widened as he heard the noise that accompanied the smell – a low grunting and the rhythmic shuffling of feet.

"I think we found the troll." He murmured, voice about an octave higher than normal.

Ron and Harry nodded, equally pale, and Ron looked like he was going to throw up. As silently as the could, they slipped down the corridor, and hurtled through the nearest door, slamming it behind them. The three of them held their breath as they heard the troll pass by on the other side of the door, sliding into a heap on the floor as they heard the noises fade.

Mal groaned as they looked around for something to barricade themselves in with. Of course they'd ended up in the girls bathroom.

"Who's there?" A wobbling voice called from one of the stalls. At least they'd found Hermione Granger.

"Hermione, we need to get out of here!" Harry called, and there was an indignant squeak from inside the stall. The door flew open, revealing an angry Hermione, her eyes red and her hair bristling.

"_What_ are you doing in the _girls_ bathroom?" she demanded.

"We don't have time for that Granger," Mal said hurriedly. "We're in danger, there's a troll on the loose."

"As if I believe that!" Hermione scoffed. "I suppose next you'll be telling me there's an Acromantula in the library!"

"A what?" Harry asked, bewildered and Mal groaned again. Why was she being so stubborn.

"Uh, guys?" Ron's voice sounded shaky, and Mal gasped as he turned to see why.

The troll loomed over them, the smell almost suffocating now. Hermione screamed and scrabbled backwards, but the troll was between them and the door. The troll roared and lumbered forward, slamming his club down on the place where Harry had been standing not a moment before.

"Confuse it!" He yelled, and Mal looked around frantically for something he could use. The troll bellowed again, as Ron through a metal pipe at its head. It headed for him, and Harry ran around the other side. Mal could only watch rooted in terror, when he heard racking sobs from next to him.

Grabbing Hermione, he pulled her to the furthest cubicle from the troll, pulling her into a ball to make a smaller target.

"Just breathe!" He cried as she began to hyperventilate, tears streaming down her cheeks.

The troll seemed to be going berserk, and Mal ducked as a piece of debris sailed over the cubicle wall. He peered round the side of their makeshift shelter and gave an incredulous laugh.

Harry was _riding_ the troll, arms wrapped around its neck, wand jammed up its nose. The troll was flailing wildly and it was all Harry could do to hold on. Ron looked as terrified as Mal felt, and the Slytherin's resolve hardened. Drawing his wand, he aimed a low level blasting curse towards the troll. It staggered back and Mal swore as Harry nearly fell off. The distraction seemed to have given Ron enough time to recover though, and he whipped his wand out, casting the first spell that came into his head: '_Wingardium Leviosa!'_

The troll's club soared upwards, then fell, cracking it on the head.

It gave a huge groan before falling forward with an almighty thud.

As the dust settled, Harry got off of the troll's back shaking and out of breath.

"Is it dead?" Hermione was the first to break the silence, as she and Mal came out from the end stall. Ron nudged it with his foot.

"Don't think so -" But whatever the end of Ron's sentence, they never got to hear, as what seemed like every teacher in the school rushed in.

"Dear Merlin!" cried Professor McGonagall as she saw the unconscious troll. "What on earth were you thinking? You're lucky you weren't killed."

"From what I have heard, Malfoy and Potter went to look for Miss Granger." said Professor Snape, close behind. "Zabini and Miss Roper informed me that there was a disagreement for which they felt...responsible."

"They didn't think I should go looking for the troll on my own."

It took all of Aunt Andromeda's careful teaching for Mal to keep a straight face as Ron dropped his wand. Granger, outright _lying_ to a _teacher_ for them?

"Explain yourself, Miss Granger." Professor Flitwick piped up, looking scandalised that one of his house would claim something so stupid.

"Well, I thought I could deal with it – because I've read about them. But, but I was wrong. If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead by now. Ron and Harry attacked the troll and Draco kept us safe. They didn't have time to fetch anyone."

Professor McGonagall gaped, and even Professor Snape and Professor Flitwick were lost for words.

"Well then, in that case..." Professor McGonagall finally said. "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

"And very unlike you." Professor Flitwick added.

It was all Mal could do not to burst into hysterical laughter as Hermione hung her head. He couldn't believe she was breaking the rules for them. Well, he could, but he;d never thought she would have had it in her.

"I'm afraid that this means points from Ravenclaw," Professor Flitwick continued. "But I think being attacked by a troll is punishment enough. Run along back to the Tower now, if you're not hurt, Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione scurried out, and Mal's heart sunk as the heads of house stared at the three of them, especially the mildly predatory look in Professor Snape's eyes.

"Well it's a miracle none of you were hurt, I must say!" Professor McGonagall said, after a moment of letting them stew.

"And I suppose you had the foresight to at least get your friends to inform a teacher." Professor Snape ground out, as if it were physically painful for him to admit. "Nevertheless, I hope you will not be so mindlessly _stupid _in future. Whilst blind bravery may be a mark of Weasley's house," Mal stifled a snigger as both Ron and McGonagall gave Professor Snape an indignant glare. "I would have thought better of Slytherins. But I suppose you showed a basic level of cunning that does not completely disgrace you. You may have five points each, Potter, Malfoy. You may go."

They cast a sympathetic look at Ron as they headed out, but he joined them only a minute later, with the same reward.

"Could have given us more than five points each." Ron muttered.

"They don't want anyone else getting troll hunting ideas into their head, probably." Mal responded, a grin returning to his face.

"Good of Hermione to cover for us though, wasn't it?" Ron admitted.

"We did save her though." Harry pointed out. Ron laughed, and as they headed back to the Entrance Hall, they saw a familiar robed figure waiting for them.

"Why'd d'you do it?" Mal asked, as they caught up with her. Hermione gave a weak smile.

"Because you came to look for me when no one else would."

"I wouldn't wish being eaten by a troll on anyone Granger." Mal paused for a beat, then grinned. "Well, maybe You-Know-Who."

The four of them laughed, before Hermione blushed, hurrying up to Ravenclaw. Ron sauntered up the stairs after her, leaving Mal and Harry to head back to the Slytherin common room alone.

But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became ally, a friend even. There are some things you can't share without liking someone, and knocking out a twelve foot mountain troll is one of them.

* * *

><p><strong>AN Ugggghhh I'm really sorry at how long this update took, but this chapter really didn't want to be written. I've had the first half and a plan since before Christmas, but what with my parents coming over from the UK to visit, and going skiing with my dad, I didn't really get a chance to just _write_. I hope it's worth the wait, and I don;t want to be one of those whiny review solicitors, but for a story with 70 followers (70! count 'em! :D), less than 20 reviews seems a little naff. Concrit, speculations, heck even plot suggestions or questions are all welcome and I do try to respond to each review.**

**Anyway, enough whining, I hope you all had a nice holiday break, and that the next update will happen a lot sooner!**

**PLU, Tolrais**


End file.
